Little Secret
by lilkyonkyon
Summary: He was ordered to destroy the entire city, but certainly one little girl couldn't hurt. AU BV. Rated for adult themes, violence and language. Repost. Further summary inside. WIP.
1. Empty

Hi everyone! It's Star, but now Lilkyonkyon... whatever. I have a few announcements before this chapter:

**1)** Whoever has sticked with me this long, I am grateful. This story is dedicated to you!

**2)** After rigorous editing, quite a few things have changed, so you'll have to reread the chapters in order to understand what's going on.

**3)** Finally, I will be updating once a week to give me time to plan out what the heck is going on. Yes, it still isn't finished; however, the chapters are three times as long so it'll fly by. Once again, thank you for your patience.

**Title:** Little Secret

**Setting:** AU Dragonball Z Universe, where Vegeta is about 12 and Bulma is about 8

**Summary:** On his twelfth birthday, Vegeta comes across a young Earthling in the rubble of a city he destroyed. He sympathizes with her, and decides, against all better judgement, to take her in and watch over her. He had no idea what consequences would come of it.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Dragonball Z, and I'm going to offer up my original characters as collateral.

**UPDATE 08/11/2010:** No, I am not dead. Neither is this story. There has been even more editing, and I'll have to post chapters as I complete them. There will be a note from me at the top when a chapter is through editing. This one is one of them.

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**Chapter One**

**Empty**

The sun began to recede over the horizon, surrendering to the winter night. Barren fields reached as far as the eye could see, with the periodic smoldering remains of a body or building adding a sickening flair to the landscape. The stench of burnt and rotting flesh was inescapable, hanging over his head like a fog, as if the blood staining his hands wasn't enough to haunt him.

Snow fell lazily from the perpetually grey sky, blanketing everything in silence. Not a sound could be heard: not the breath of the wind that had quit blowing, nor the murmur of the stream that had frozen long ago. A solitary tree twisted towards the sky, pining for leaves, fruitlessly begging the sun for warmth and light.

He had come during the night, leaving nothing in his wake, painstakingly advancing, systematically killing whatever dared cross his path. There were to be no survivors when he left this quadrant.

He did not know why. It was not his place to know why. He just did what he was told. And he was told to take one of the last strongholds in the human's possession: West City. He was to destroy every building, kill every human within his reach.

This was his birthday present.

He had just turned twelve.

The boy spat on the ground disgustedly, noting the strange twist of fate that had brought him here, to this place. His kind was supposed to be extinct, too, but he had been allowed to live, and now he was wiping out another species. He vaguely wondered if this was a snapshot of the rest of his life, if he would be this alone until the day he died. He could feel the snow in his hair, and he impatiently brushed it away.

Before him, the city was lit up like a galaxy, every light twinkling on while the sun disappeared behind the mountains. From his position on a cliff, he could almost smell the fear of the people—not the fear of death itself, but the fear of waiting for death.

It was something he understood quite well.

Unconsciously, his tail lashed behind him, readying its owner for another bout of fighting. The boy bit his lip despondently before taking to the air, slowly descending into the city, his senses spiking with adrenaline. Soon he could see the streets and homes, bleakly greeting their own demise.

Although they knew he was coming, no one was prepared for his attack. He toppled buildings one by one, decimating the population with minimal effort. His eyes were blurry from fatigue, but he couldn't stop. The snow still came down.

The last building was on the outskirts of town: an office with the title Capsule Corporation painted on the side in bold red lettering. One final ki blast rid the earth of its now-purposeless existence. The boy alighted nearby the charred remains of the building, debris and cinders falling, mixing with the snowflakes to create a black rain.

He had done it. There were no more humans left.

Just like there were no more of his kind left.

The hot tears that he had held back during the slaughter burned his eyes, threatening to fall, but the boy's sheer willpower kept them inside. He had learned to contain his feelings, packing them away in boxes and shelving them to be opened later, in seclusion. His emotions were of no concern to anyone, himself included. It was best that way.

Instead, he chose to spend a moment in silence, remembering his life before Lord Frieza had come and destroyed his planet. He had been beckoned onto the ship and locked in a room, waiting as patiently as a six-year-old could for whatever he was promised; he couldn't remember exactly what. The lizard had told him afterwards it was a meteor shower that had killed his people, and he took the explanation for granted. How could he not have known what had happened? That small metal chamber had blocked out the screams of the dying, the smell of burning flesh, the explosion of his home—

The boy turned sharply, instinctively wrapping his tail around his waist. Through the darkness of a new evening, he could make out the figure of the Lord standing behind him, sneering contentedly. "You have done well, Prince Vegeta."

"Lord Frieza." The boy raised his chin haughtily. "What do you want?"

The alien's leer disappeared after the flippant remark. "Have you forgotten your manners, Monkey? I have gone out of my way to watch your first solo mission, my birthday present to you, and you have the nerve to question me? I command you to bow and thank me for this generosity."

"I won't." The boy spat at his feet.

He was suddenly on the ground, delicately wiping off the blood trailing down his chin and glowering at the alien above him. On unsteady feet, Vegeta rose. Frieza stated again, "You will do as I say. Bow to me." Again, he refused, and again, he was struck down. "I will give you one last chance, Monkey. Bow to me!" The boy managed to raise his head and gaze defiantly at Frieza.

"Princes do not bow to filth."

Frieza snapped. Every lash of the tail was like the crack of a whip upon Vegeta's back. Even so, he would not cry or shout out in pain. The boy clenched his teeth together, squeezed his eyes shut, and took each blow with dignity and honor that one would not see in even the most seasoned of warriors. He knew he deserved it, every bit.

The whipping came to an abrupt halt when every inch of the boy's body was covered in a deep red, staining the already blackened snow around him. A trail of blood made its way from his mouth down his neck, and his eyes struggled to stay open. Weakness could not be shown in front of Lord Frieza.

"Let us hope that you've learned your lesson, Prince," Frieza wheezed disgustedly. Vegeta was too lightheaded to reply one way or the other. Cackling, the alien took to the air, back to base, and the boy finally allowed the darkness of night to cloud his thoughts.

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Warmth. It was the first time he felt warmth since landing in the middle of this damned winter. The heat felt wonderful on his aching body, it seemed to actually heal him.

It was healing him. He could open his eyes now, even though the light of the sun was forcing him to keep them shut.

The sun? Vegeta cocked an eye open. He was still outside, still lying in the ruins of the demolished metal dome. Surprisingly, he didn't feel sore anymore. He hadn't been able to move only moments before—

"Hello?" A face suddenly appeared above him, momentarily blocking out the light. He couldn't make out the features; long shadows cast over the face, and the sun was so bright. His muscles tensed, ready to attack.

"Where am I?" he asked gruffly.

"My house. Are you okay?" Vegeta tried to sit up, and was surprised when he could do so easily. Normally when Frieza beat him, he was sore for weeks. He turned so he could face the stranger. His eyes met an odd sight: a female child.

At least, Vegeta assumed she was a female. He hadn't seen that many in his lifetime, but she definitely didn't look like the males he had fought on Earth. Her face was too delicate, her scent too fresh. Her hair was long, and a startling shade of blue.

Vegeta stood up and stretched a bit. He was feeling no pain at all now, no soreness or numbness from the beating. With renewed interest, he looked upon the child. She was young—younger than he was, so it seemed—and was kneeling beside him in the snow, shivering in her nightie against the cold wind. He noticed her fingers were intertwined in a small chain around her neck, as if the necklace was keeping her warm somehow. "What did you do to me?" he demanded softly.

"I gave you a senzu bean. Mom says that they heal people instantly." Her blue eyes filled with sudden concern. "Have you seen my mom?"

Vegeta winced inwardly, knowing what kind of reaction she was bound to have. He tightly announced, "She's not here."

The child's wandering eyes snapped back to his face. "Huh? Where is she?"

"She's not coming back."

"But… but she forgot me," the girl said pointlessly. "She left me here! When is she coming back?"

"She did not forget you," he said aloofly, trying his best to comfort her. "She just… she can't come for you. You can't see her again."

A brief silence did nothing to heal the sudden stab in her heart. She sniffed dolefully as a tear spilled out of her eye. "Never?" she whispered. Another tear chased the first down her cheek, pooling at her chin.

Vegeta could only shake his head and brace for the inevitable change. Her bottom lip protruded in one last attempt to contain her sorrow, but it was futile. A heart-wrenching moan escaped the girl and she crumpled into the snow. "Mom!" she screamed deafeningly through her tears. "Mommy!" Unsure of himself, the boy just stood there, watching gravely.

Her hoarse sobs suddenly tore open a box in Vegeta's mind, the one containing the day of his planet's destruction. Emotions torched him, burning him with their strength and complexity. He could feel all the bitter sadness, the confusion, the regret that had disturbed him since the death of his race, his people, his family.

The long-standing pain was too great for him. Desperate for silence, he shouted, "Stop it! That's enough!" Immediately, the girl stifled her tears and gazed up at him with watery blue eyes, sniffing gently.

"Why are you crying?" she said.

Shocked, Vegeta wiped his face with the back of his fist hurriedly, erasing any evidence of his frailty. "I'm not crying, idiot."

The girl, despite her situation, sniggered. She then snuffled a bit and smiled softly at him, even though her eyes were still red from crying. "What's your name?"

The boy responded thoughtlessly. "Prince Vegeta." He then silently chastised himself for his stupidity. Never give your name to the enemy. He glanced at her warily. Of course, she didn't look dangerous, kneeling in the snow all alone. Vegeta wondered why Frieza wanted all these people dead, but he soon chased those thoughts away. It was no concern of his if this girl died. He didn't care. He was a soldier.

The little girl didn't notice his despondence. "Prince?" she squeaked, her eyes immediately brightening with wonder.

Vegeta sneered inwardly at her eagerness but—on a whim—he decided to play along. She seemed to forget her sorrow when she was distracted. "Prince Vegeta of the Saiyan race," he said sardonically, performing a regal, sweeping bow.

The little girl's laughter rang in his ears favorably, but the sound itself was foreign. He had never heard someone laugh out of joy or happiness. The laughter he knew was more from morbid pleasure, malicious and cold. This girl's was different than that; it was cheering. Vegeta suddenly craved more. "And to whom do I owe this pleasure?"

"I'm Bulma," the girl giggled.

Vegeta straightened and smirked, the closest thing he could muster to a smile. "It was an honor meeting a fine lady such as yourself, but I'm afraid I must be going." With a small salute, he began to march proudly back towards base, hoping it would earn him more laughs.

Instead, he heard a desperate "Wait!" Puzzled, Vegeta halted and faced the little girl. The happiness that she had displayed moments earlier was replaced with anxiousness. "Where are you going?"

For once, Vegeta's voice faltered. According to his orders, he had to kill her, but he couldn't bring himself to, so he was doing the next best thing: leaving her to die. How do you explain that to a child? "I need to go back to base," he finally managed to say.

"You're going to leave me alone?" Even from twenty paces away, Vegeta could tell that she was ready to cry again. It was then the impact of the situation transpired—he had killed her parents. He had become the monster he loathed and feared. What was this child going to do alone on earth? She was the last of her kind, the last human, just as he was the last of his kind. Would she turn into someone like him: fearful, victimized, desolate?

No matter how emotionless Vegeta wanted to be, he could not condemn her to this fate. "I… no. I won't leave you."

He regretted saying that immediately. He couldn't bring her with him. He didn't really care if he was directly violating his orders, but he would have to look after her, keep her out of sight. And how long would she be able to hide? Eventually, she would be found and killed, and one more spirit would haunt his dreams.

Yet as soon as her face lit up, he knew that he would never be able to back out.

"Honest? You'll let me come with you?"

"Not if you're going to keep asking stupid questions."

She sniffed at his arrogant demeanor before rising. "I already got everything I need, so I'm ready to go." The little girl showed Vegeta her wrist, which had a small parcel tied to it. Although he doubted that she had everything she owned in the pouch, he just shook his head. It didn't matter; she'd be killed as soon as she was found on the ship.

He felt a pang of remorse but quickly suppressed it. It was better for her to die with someone than to die alone.

"Come on, let's go." He walked over and awkwardly lifted her into his arms, but she squirmed uncomfortably and said, "I can walk. You don't need to carry me."

"We're not walking. We're flying." Suddenly, Vegeta leapt into the air and rushed off towards base with a burst of energy. Bulma, although she clung tightly to his neck, squealed with glee at the blast of crisp winter air. The boy's eyes darted to her face and she smiled at him breathlessly. For her sake, he smirked back, but inwardly he knew she was too naïve to understand that she would never see her home again.

It was almost eleven o'clock at night when the spaceship was in view. The long flight had worn out the child, and she slept soundly in his arms, cradled against the heat of his chest. As Vegeta hovered above base, he took in the surroundings carefully. Since it was such a late hour, most of the soldiers were out purging the remaining cities. Only two guards were stationed at the entrance, and they were the weakest. The surrounding woods provided dark shadows, enough for him to successfully conceal his presence from the guards.

He also noted that the moon was nearly whole. As a rule, he was not allowed outside when there was a full moon. The last time he had been out, he had transformed into an Oozaru and wreaked havoc on Frieza's men, killing a dozen or so.

For the first time in his life, he was thankful for the rule. Tomorrow was the last full day on Earth before they returned to Ice-sei, so he wouldn't have to leave the little girl unsupervised in his quarters. He hated to think of what would happen to her if he was out purging. What if his room was checked, or what if she wandered outside, in plain sight?

Landing softly a little ways away from the entrance to the ship, he roused the sleeping girl in his arms and signaled for her to stay quiet. She complied and he set her down, in order to sneak towards the entrance. Her eyes watched him fearfully as he crept towards the threshold, and she watched his dark features melt into the shadows with ease.

The same could not be said for her, with fair skin and a shockingly blue head of hair. As Vegeta slowly advanced, Bulma caught one of the guard's attention.

He spoke in a strange tongue to the other, who looked into the darkened forest curiously. He, too, saw what looked like liquid turquoise cascading down from the trees. Then they saw no more. Vegeta had stealthily knocked the two guards out and motioned for Bulma to come to him. Quickly, she ran to his side while he punched in the entrance code and together they slipped through the door.

"Vegeta, were those bad guys?" she whispered loudly. All she received back was a sharp hiss for silence.

As they progressed down the corridor, Vegeta's stride became easier; he could see that there would be no problems getting her to safety. Unfortunately, he had forgotten about the cafeteria. A number of guards were there to gamble that night, playing games of _sijea_. He cursed the guards in another language for the benefit of the child accompanying him before he addressed her. "Listen," he whispered, "I'll distract the guards while you cross the hallway."

"No, they'll see," Bulma whimpered softly. "I can get rid of them, you don't have to go."

His eyebrow arched questioningly. "What are you talking about?"

"Here, I'll make them go away." Eager to get to safety, Bulma tiptoed to the communication device next to the door and pried open the hatch. After fiddling with the wires inside, she reached something that seemed to suit her. "Cover your ears," she cautioned before crossing the wires.

The alarm blared to life, then went off as soon as she released the wires. At first, the guards were confused, but after exchanging a few words, they ran to the entrance to see what had caused the siren.

She turned to Vegeta and simpered. He could only sniff in reply. If this child was capable of rewiring the ship's system without previous training, she was much brighter than a large portion of the staff Lord Frieza employed. Fleetingly, he wondered what else she was capable of performing.

But there was no time to think now. "Let's get going," he said gruffly, grabbing Bulma's hand and continuing down the hallway. After going through a maze of doorways and corridors, the pair ended up at room 274. Vegeta punched in the room code and the panel slid open. The lights flickered on, revealing modest accommodations: a twin-sized bed and a simple chair in the back, a crooked dresser pressed against the right wall with a glowing digital clock on top, and an undersized bathroom to the left. "Welcome to your new home."

Bulma examined every square inch as she hesitantly made her way into the room. Vegeta followed and the door glided shut behind him. Contented for the time-being, the little girl sat in the chair and pulled the parcel off her wrist. "Where should I put this?"

"Here, give it to me." Vegeta took the pouch and put it in one of his drawers. Bulma watched him interestedly. "If you ever need them, they'll be in here. Put them back when you're done." She nodded and sat back in the chair, unsuccessfully attempting to stifle a yawn.

"Where do you sleep?" she asked. Vegeta pointed at the ground, signifying that they were sharing the room. He then took a pair of boxers from the dresser and locked himself in the bathroom.

The lights suddenly shut off in the main compartment and Bulma involuntarily gasped. The ruffling of material on skin was the only sound she could hear, but it didn't comfort her. She shivered and began to hum to herself, absently rubbing her necklace between her fingers. The metal on the chair pricked her back with sterile coldness. Eventually, she climbed down from the chair and into the lone bed, settling herself between the ragged sheets. It was small, cold, and hard—much different than the one at home.

"Vegeta," she called out softly. The bathroom door opened and she could barely see the Saiyan Prince emerge wearing the pair of boxers. He tossed his clothes onto the chair and frowned.

"What are you doing in my bed?"

"This is your bed? Where's mine?" Again, Vegeta pointed to the floor. She looked mortified. "You can't make me sleep on the floor!"

"Yes I can."

The little girl looked at him sorrowfully, tears threatening to fall. "Please?" He crinkled his nose at her, but realized that she was right.

"Fine, but just tonight," he said, climbing into bed and purposely laying with his back to her. She huddled up, her body against his, and Vegeta instantly tensed at the unfamiliar contact. "What do you want?"

"I miss my mom," she murmured to him.

The Prince was utterly lost. Never having been consoled himself, he did what came naturally to him.

"Shut up and go to sleep," he snapped. There was a lull, and Vegeta began to think that his proposal had worked. He closed his eyes and settled in for the night. At that moment, a soft sob jolted the bed, jerking the Prince out of his drowsiness. "What now?" he asked her, exasperated.

"I forgot my blankie. I can't go to sleep without my blankie." Bulma sobbed again and the bed rattled. "I want Mom." Vegeta unsuccessfully attempted to hush her, and finally he resorted to more desperate measures.

"Here, use this," he huffed as he unwound his tail from around his waist and waved it in front of her. "But be careful, it's sensitive."

"What is that?" she asked disgustedly.

"What? You've never seen a tail before?"

"But people don't have tails! How come you have one?"

Vegeta snorted at her ignorance. "I'm not a pathetic human like you. I'm a Saiyan warrior, and all Saiyans have tails."

"What's a Saiyan?" the little girl asked. He felt her gently take his tail in her arms and snuggle it to her chest.

"I'll tell you later if you go to sleep."

"Mkay." Vegeta heaved a sigh of relief and lay down once again, trying to ignore the warm breath tickling his fur.

"Thank you, Vegeta," she whispered suddenly.

"Just go to sleep." She readily complied, pulling his tail close as she eased off into a dreamless sleep. Vegeta, on the other hand, could only stare at the wall before him. He could feel her eyelashes brushing the tips of his fur and her steady, even breaths made him shudder. Finally fed up, he pulled himself up on his elbow and turned to look at her slumbering figure.

She would have to die eventually. He knew this. It was inevitable that she would die on this ship. Vegeta didn't want to see another life lost because of his actions. It was his fault the rest of his kind was dead, and he couldn't bear to lose another.

He raised his hand, gathering a small amount of ki. It was all he needed to kill a sleeping child. All he had to do was let it go. Release the ki. Then it would be all over.

But he couldn't.

Even though there were endless dangers on the ship, he couldn't betray the trust that she had given him so freely. He had made her a promise, and he intended to keep it.

He let out a small snort, disgusted with himself. He had already grown attached to her, and a full day hadn't even passed yet. Vegeta returned to his former position and fell into a fitful sleep.


	2. Hiding

It's so funny; I'm reading the new Harry Potter, and I'm finding tons of similarities between the book and this story that I started about Draco a few months ago. It's kind of creepy...

**UPDATE 08/11/2010: **This chapter has also been edited. Ps. That story I wrote about in my previous author's note is one I'm still working on, haha. Weird little world, isn't it?

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**Chapter Two**

**Hiding**

Vegeta's eyes flew open. The first thing he noticed was that his tail was wrapped firmly around his waist. The slight pressure he expected to feel from the little girl sleeping against his back was absent, and sure enough, when he looked behind him, she was not there. Quickly, his eyes swept the room, looking for a sign of her whereabouts.

He could see soap bubbles strewn across the floor. She must have been playing in the bathroom. Water trailed from the sink, to the chair, to the bedside…. Vegeta's eyes followed the path slowly, and they eventually came to rest at the foot of the door. The hatch of the door's control panel was hanging open, wires dangling from the bottom. She had managed to get out.

He cursed to himself in Saiyan as he hopped out of bed, hurriedly throwing on a shirt. That little girl—Bulma, was it?—would be dead if he didn't find her soon. Of course, wandering around the ship before room inspection was considered an outright plea for a whipping, but he could survive another beating easily. Vegeta was positive the little girl wouldn't.

The lights in the hallway were dimmed, but the Saiyan's heightened senses aided him in maneuvering around the ship. He sniffed the air, trying to pick up her scent. It was there, and it was still fairly strong; she had been wandering around for about ten minutes, probably less.

Starting down the hallway, the Saiyan Prince carefully chose each step, knowing that one wrong move could end up with the discovery of him and the brat. He needed to find her and get her back to the room. Today was room inspection. If she was out while the guards were walking around….

Vegeta gritted his teeth and pressed on, leaving his dark thoughts behind. He knew that he would find her. He didn't trust many people, but he trusted himself. She would get back safe.

Down to the right, Vegeta found his first clue to her whereabouts: a strand of blue hair. He rubbed the follicle between his fingers and deduced he was gaining on her. Quickly, he incinerated the evidence in his palm, lest a guard saw it and brought it to the lab for examination.

Vegeta rose and started forward, but hushed voices made him retract quickly. Shrinking against the wall, he strained to hear the conversation.

"I don't know why the alarm went off yesterday, sir. The guards at the front door mentioned that they had seen something blue before they were knocked out. I checked the vicinity. There are some dinosaurs around these parts, so we think that it might have been one of those." Vegeta didn't recognize the voice, so he assumed it was a lower class guard.

"I suggest you find out what really happened. We wouldn't want any nasty surprises, now would we?" The second voice belonged to Zarbon, one of Frieza's favorite henchmen. Involuntarily, Vegeta clenched his fists.

"Yes, sir." The click of boots signaled the retreat of the lower class warrior, soon followed by the nearby sound of a door sliding shut. Zarbon had returned to his quarters. When the sound of footsteps faded absolutely, Vegeta scanned his surroundings once more before starting down the hallway, new rage built up inside.

Vegeta detested Zarbon. Not only was he enormously self-important, but he went out of his way to make Vegeta's life a living hell. The prick was nosy and demanding, often taking advantage of Vegeta's lower position. He was no longer someone to trust. There was no telling how long Vegeta could hide the little girl with that bastard on board. Knowing this, the young Prince doubled his pace. He promised himself that he would not allow her to be taken by Zarbon.

He paused to sniff the air again. She was close, very close. Vegeta slowed his pace considerably, listening keenly to his surroundings. The sound of breathing, not heavy like an older male's, but light and excited, made its way to his ears. He turned and walked to a closet behind him, checking to see that the corridors were empty.

Quickly, he punched in the code and stepped back as the door opened. The blue-haired girl spilled into the hallway, giggling insanely. "You found me!" she squealed. Luckily, the laughter interfered with the volume of her statement, softening it. It would have been an entirely different story if her high voice reverberated down the metal hallways.

Vegeta ignored her, grabbing her arm and harshly pulling her toward him, making her yelp in surprise. He seethed under his breath, "Don't do that again."

She wiggled her wrist, trying to loosen the grip he had on her. "Ow, Vegeta. You're hurting me." Tears stung her eyes.

"Shut up," he snapped menacingly. "If the guards find you, they will kill you." His eyes burned her, and she couldn't look him in the face without being scalded. "You are in danger every second you are on this ship. Do you understand?"

She nodded slowly, letting her tears spill onto the floor. "I'm sorry, Vegeta."

Now he was feeling guilty for hurting her, but he shook off his remorse. "Let's go," he said gruffly, tugging on her arm. She stifled another yelp and followed behind him as best as she could. Vegeta's eyes roamed the hallways like a shark as he rushed towards his room. He had to get there before room inspection started. The girl had to be hidden and the room had to be cleaned. Any slip up now and all his efforts would have been for nothing.

"Vegeta, slow down," Bulma pleaded. She was running full out, yet she was still being pulled along behind him. He hushed her again and quickly picked her up so he wouldn't have to delay. By the time he got to his room, he was literally flying. He punched in his code with a trembling hand and rushed inside, the door hurriedly closing behind him as if it sensed his haste. In one fluid motion, Vegeta rushed to the bedside and unceremoniously dropped the whimpering girl on the crumpled sheets before glancing at the clock.

A swear escaped his lips. "Room inspection's in five minutes," he said blandly.

"What's that?"

He ignored her as he walked to the back left corner of the room. There, he bent to his knees and scratched at a loose tile until he managed to catch the edge and pry it open. Underneath, a hole large enough to fit a fully-grown man was ready, waiting for an occupant. Vegeta turned to Bulma and pointed into the opening. "Wait in here until I come and get you."

The little girl pouted as she slid off the bed, peering into her hiding spot. There was nothing as unpleasant as the sight of the darkness waiting for her. It was a pool of black, like solid calm waters waiting to swallow her whole.

She hesitated, but Vegeta nudged her back. "Alright, I'm going," she said defensively, although her voice was edged with fear. Unwillingly, she sank down into the darkness until some wires caught her body, cushioning her gently, the same way that a pair of strong arms would. As her eyes became used to the light, she noticed a small assortment of cardboard boxes were also in the hole. She would have asked what was in them if she wasn't so frightened. Anxiously, she looked up at Vegeta. "How long will I be down here?"

"Five, ten minutes." The Saiyan could smell her fear, and knew it well. Slowly, he added, "I won't let anything bad happen to you."

"Promise?"

Vegeta hesitated. If he made a verbal pact with her now, there was no going back. He'd already invested so much, he was afraid he had no more to give. But her hope was a convincing argument. He told her, "I promise." He pushed the floor tile back over her head, sealing off the glow of the artificial light.

Even more darkness overcame her, stealing the air around her. It was familiar darkness, the same darkness that had covered her when the earth was attacked.

At such a young age, she was not ready for death or pain. Her mother had put her in the underground shelter and told her not to say a thing, or the bad guys would come and find her. Bulma didn't like being left alone in a dark hole, but she bravely stayed put, crying silently to herself as she heard the muted explosions and screams from above.

Now, she wove her fingers in her necklace and bit her tongue. No matter what, she could not give away her hiding place. She heard rushed footfalls above her head, as Vegeta was trying to clean up as fast as he could. The soap on the ground was brushed aside with a rag, along with dribbles of water. He roughly tugged the covers on his bed in an attempt to flatten them—

But the ominous rap on the door was earlier than he anticipated. He sullenly stood at attention and stated, "Come in."

The door opened wide and Dodoria toddled through, carrying a clip board and a haughty air about him. "It's time to check the Ape's room. I see the room looks like it belongs to an ape, too." Fiddling with his pen, Dodoria waddled to the bed, which—despite Vegeta's efforts—was still in disarray from last night. "Unkempt, I see." He clicked his tongue mockingly. "Do try to refrain from sleeping in. Laziness will get you nowhere in life."

_Like he should talk_, Vegeta thought bitterly. He had to bite the side of his cheek to keep from relaying this information to his assessor. Whatever happened, he couldn't let his anger control him today. He couldn't afford to have his room scoured even more. The Prince had something to lose now.

Dodoria didn't let Vegeta's unusual silence pass him by. "Quiet today, are we? Have you finally learned your lesson?" He chuckled, a deep, throaty chuckle as unpleasant as the croak of a sick toad.

Even though he was scribbling on his clipboard about the clothes lying on the floor, Dodoria watched the boy's reaction closely. Vegeta's eyes were shut tightly and his fists were clenched, yet he remained motionless, firmly planted in the middle of the room. The alien could sense the same anger that the Saiyan displayed during every inspection, but now he was attempting to hold it in.

Dodoria wondered why now of all times, but not excessively. It was no concern of his whether the Ape was soundless. He shrugged to himself and waddled into the bathroom. There was scum painted all over the pale walls and dingy mirror, as if someone had written a message in the bubbles. The foam seemed to be another language, and although Dodoria could pick out certain letters from Standard, he didn't understand the markings. It wasn't Saiyan, that was for sure.

He cast a quick glance over his shoulder to look at the boy curiously. Could he have learned another language? A dead one? Dodoria didn't think so. He couldn't see the Ape going out of his way to learn something useless. The alien slowly shook his thoughts away and resumed filling out his inspection sheet.

"Look at the state of this washroom! Saiyans are filth, the lot of them." Dodoria scribbled furiously on his pad of paper, his back turned to the conflicted prince. "It was a gift to the universe when Vegeta-sei was destroyed."

He had gone a step too far.

When Dodoria turned to exit the cramped bathroom, his jaw met solidly with Vegeta's right hook. "Don't you dare speak of my people!" the boy choked, adjusting to throw another punch at the unfazed alien. His fist met with a spongy hand and Vegeta grudgingly took a step back.

"What people?" Dodoria chuckled disgustingly. "They're all dead, no thanks to you, and you will be too, if you don't watch your tongue."

Vegeta didn't have enough time to brace for the attack. A sudden hit to the stomach sent him sprawling. He landed on his knees, retching from the blow. As he tried to catch his breath, Dodoria advanced on his huddled figure. "You have no one. You are no one."

The only response he could give was a shuddering gasp. Dodoria struck again and Vegeta fell to his stomach, the back of his shirt torn open to reveal a new welt blossoming. Another crack on his body, another welt parallel to the last. The alien started to gain speed, each cut was faster than the last, one more welt, then another, another, another, until every surface of Vegeta's back was crimson.

Finally, Dodoria had enough. "Frieza will hear of your disobedience," he stated blandly before waddling out of the room, the door automatically shutting behind him.

Vegeta drew in another ragged breath and forced his weighty eyes open. Despite everything, his wounds were not his first priority. Bulma couldn't be left waiting under the tile. Doubtless the racket had frightened her. If he left her down there, she would probably start crying and calling for him. The last thing that she needed was to be heard by the other soldiers. He had to get her out now.

Slowly, he army-crawled to the corner of the room, one arm over the other, pausing every so often to ward off queasiness. After the journey was done, he busied himself with clawing open the tile. His numb fingers fumbled over the slick ground but he forced them to snag the edge. Carefully, he lifted the metal sheet off the hole and placed it nearby.

"Vegeta…?" Scared, tearful eyes peered out of the darkness. "Vegeta, what's wrong? What happened?"

"Nothing," he lied as he lowered his arm over the side. "Grab my hand and I'll pull you up." Her fingers clutched at his wrist as he lifted her out of the darkness, hushing her as she shook from fear. "Everything's alright now—"

She gasped at the sight of blood leaking onto the floor and her hand automatically flew to his shoulder to comfort him, causing the prince to flinch.

"Watch your hands!" he hissed. She quickly withdrew and stared at the blood as another dizzy spell hit Vegeta. "Quick," he gasped, "get a towel and soak it in water." She hurriedly obeyed. When he saw she had the wet towel, Vegeta instructed her to wipe the blood off his back.

At first, he cringed as the cold water seeped into his unprotected gashes, but he soon grew accustomed to the feeling. Bulma gently pushed the towel in a circular motion, creating a soothing effect. A few moments passed in silence before Bulma got the nerve to talk. "Vegeta," she said as she wiped his back, "what happened?"

"Dodoria inspected my room." Bulma frowned pensively. She didn't know what "inspected" was, but it obviously wasn't something she wanted to see. As she pondered the true meaning of the word, she absentmindedly flipped the towel over to a relatively clean side. A wave of chills flew up Vegeta's spine and he groaned.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." The answer was a bit rushed, but Bulma was too young to appreciate the importance. Vegeta rested his head in his hands carefully and slowly exhaled, trying to clear his head.

Bulma's mind, however, was still racing. "Why did the man call you an ape?"

Vegeta sighed heavily. He didn't need an interrogation after everything that happened, but he couldn't see any way out of it. Besides, she was helping him. "Because of my tail."

The little girl's face again clouded in thought. "But apes don't have tails," she said slowly. Vegeta opened his mouth to reply, but he stopped. He didn't really know what to say, except that she was right. It was odd that he hadn't noticed it before. The names that they called him weren't even technically correct. How stupid.

"I guess," he finally managed to respond. The towel slopped his blood around his back, but none of the welts were open anymore; they were all scars now. Red ran in rivers off of his back and pooled on the floor, creating a sticky puddle. Just one more thing he had to clean up. As soon as Vegeta felt he could rise, he did stiffly, taking the gory towel from Bulma. He gave her a quick once-over. "Your clothes are bloody."

She looked down at her nightgown sadly. "I don't know if I have anything else to wear."

"What's in that pouch you brought with you?" he asked smoothly, hoping the reply was positive. There was no way he'd be able to get her clothing without looking suspicious. Thankfully, she immediately perked up at his reply.

"Mom might have packed me some clothes," she answered excitedly as she ran to the drawer and pulled out the pouch. Inside were an assortment of pill-shaped containers—one labeled "games," one labeled "learning" and a final one labeled "clothes". She grabbed the clothing one and smiled. "Here it is, Vegeta!" As the boy watched, Bulma pushed on the cap and tossed it toward the door.

"What does that—" A soft wheezing noise caught him off-guard.

"Wow! Dad figured out a way to make them quieter!" Bulma said absentmindedly.

Vegeta didn't hear; he was too busy staring at what used to be the capsule. Now there was a gigantic pile of clothing contained in a metallic box in the middle of the floor. Eagerly, she plunged into the box and dug through the masses of outfits.

There were easily six different sizes of clothing in the container; her parents were smart enough to pack bigger clothing for her, assuming she would manage to grow up. Bulma finally surfaced with a pair of jeans, some underwear and a small t-shirt. "All done." She pressed a button on the side of the box and, moments later, the small capsule was resting on the floor, the box a memory.

Vegeta watched this display with fascination. The technology he had been exposed to was minimal, a fraction of this type of knowledge. How did she possess things like this?

His thoughts were interrupted when he felt a tug on his arm. "What do you want?" She bent her head down low and muttered, "Can you leave now while I change?"

Even though he knew it was stupid for him to go inside the bathroom while she changed in the larger room, he realized that he still had to wash the towel, not to mention clean up the soap scud. He thoughtfully looked down at his shirt. Now that he was making a to-do list, he should probably add 'changing' to it.

"Fine," he said simply, too weak to argue. "Tell me when you're done." He retrieved a clean shirt from his drawer and shut himself in the bathroom. As he washed the towel, Vegeta stared at the markings on the wall. They seemed to form a sentence, but he couldn't read Standard very well.

"Okay, Vegeta, I'm done." She opened the door and smiled up at him.

"Tell me what these markings mean," he said directly. Bulma looked past him to the letters she had written on the wall earlier.

"I wrote _encuéntrame_. My dad taught it to me. It means 'find me'."

"What language?"

"Spanish. Tons of different people speak it: Spaniards, Mexicans, Guatemalans, Argentineans…." As she rattled off a list of foreign names, Vegeta turned back to the word again. All of those people were dead now. This little girl was the only one that knew their language, even if it was just a word.

Vegeta shook his morbid thoughts off and bent down to the little girl's level, taking her by the shoulders. She grew quiet. "Do not leave this room ever again unless you're with me. Understand?" Bulma mumbled something that sounded like a yes. "Good. Now let's clean up."

* * *

Vegeta collapsed onto his bed and closed his eyes, sighing heavily. He was drained from the loss of blood, not to mention the three hours of cleaning he had just gone through. At least Bulma was a diligent worker, even if she was young.

The mattress shifted and he cocked an eye open. He watched in mild fascination as the little girl climbed up towards him, eventually settling her head against his stomach.

Why did she trust him so much? He hadn't been kind to her—he had yelled at her, derided her, even hurt her, yet here she was, resting on his abdomen as if she had known him all her life. Silly emotions were all he could attribute her behavior to. Vegeta didn't ponder it further; instead, he sniffed dourly at her and shut his eye. He didn't force her to move.

They rested for awhile that way, simply enjoying the ephemeral peace. Vegeta could feel himself drifting off to sleep.

The alarm clock suddenly rang. "_Schei_!" he said under his breath, pushing the child off of him and snatching his uniform and yanking it over his head. "I have guard duty now," he said as he hastily remade the bed. "Don't get into any trouble while I'm gone." And he left as silently as he always did, without so much as a goodbye.

After she heard his steps recede down the hallway, she sighed to herself. Even if he didn't talk to her much, it was going to be a long day without him.


	3. Troubled

So, third chapter. More "fun" for Bulma and Vegeta. Yippi skippi!

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it.

**UPDATE 08/11/2010: **This chapter has been edited.

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**Chapter Three**

**Troubled**

Bulma had just discovered how many games her mother had packed and was rummaging through them excitedly when there was a rap on the door. "Vegeta? _Hasto qui_?" It was not a voice Bulma recognized. She shrank backwards, further onto the bed, and bit her tongue. Vegeta said they would kill her if they found her. Quickly, she closed her eyes and covered her ears. "_Loa_? _Loa_?"

"What are you doing here?" asked a harsh voice from the other side of the door. Immediately, Bulma perked up, recognizing the tone. It was Vegeta.

"Ah, _yape bruya_!" the other voice answered cheerfully. Haltingly, the Prince replied in the same language. The other voice grew serious and he spoke for awhile. When Vegeta finally replied, he sounded frustrated, but Bulma couldn't understand what was wrong. Eventually, the other voice managed to calm him. Receding footsteps could be heard, signifying the end of the conversation.

As the door slid open, Bulma lunged forward off the bed and wrapped her arms around Vegeta's middle. "Yay! You're back!"

"Get the hell off of me."

She remained unfazed, though, and instead pointed at the games strewn on the bed. "Do you want to play?"

"Play?" he questioned warily. The packages on the bed seemed to burst with bold colors, but he squelched his curiosity. "It's almost ten o'clock. Time for bed."

"Aw, but—"

He stripped off his shirt and tossed it in the hamper. "Get dressed," he told her before he entered the washroom, closing the door behind him. After a moment, he heard one of her capsules open, and he knew she was dressing. While she got ready, he took the time to wash his face and upper-body, the cold water rinsing away the scent of sweat and labor.

"Okay, I'm ready!" she said through the door loudly. He shushed her as he came out of the bathroom.

"Keep your voice down."

"Sorry, Vegeta." She smiled up at him, even though he had just scolded her.

Rolling his eyes in response, he pushed her towards the bed. She eagerly jumped in and scooted over, making room for the worn Saiyan prince. He lay down stiffly and turned his back to her, closing his swollen eyelids. It had been a long day.

For some reason, the sound of breathing beside him never slowed to the proper resting rate. Why wasn't the little girl sleeping? He eventually remembered that she had used his tail to rest last night, so he unwound it from his waist and poked her in the arm with it. Gladly, she hugged the appendage close to her body.

"Vegeta?" she whispered. He grunted. "Who was that man that came to the door?"

"H'limke. He's the doctor."

"Why did you sound so angry when you were talking to him?"

"Frieza's cutting down on food rations."

Bulma didn't know what he meant by that, so she became quiet for awhile. Presently, she said, "Today was my birthday." She patiently waited for a reply, but pouted when she didn't receive one. "Aren't you going to say happy birthday to me?"

He answered, "Why should I? There was nothing happy about today."

"I guess," she said sullenly. "When's your birthday?"

Exasperated, he said, "Will you just go to sleep?"

"But I'm not tired."

"I am. Go to sleep." There was another long lapse in the conversation, but it was filled with the rumpling of sheets and heavy sighs that accompany insomnia. The incessant clamor behind Vegeta stole away his peacefulness. His temper finally flared. "What's wrong now?"

"I can't go to sleep."

"Why not?"

"Mom always told me a story before I went to bed."

"You didn't have a problem last night."

"I was really really tired last night. Can you tell me a story?"

"I don't know any stories."

"Didn't your mom ever tell you stories before you went to bed?"

Vegeta didn't respond at first. In all honesty, he couldn't remember if she had told him stories or not. He finally managed to say, "No," but his voice lacked the usual aloofness.

Bulma was silent for a little while longer, thinking. Vegeta had never once mentioned his parents to her. He was a Saiyan, after all, not a human. Did he even know his parents? She couldn't really say, so she decided to ask about them. "Vegeta, where are your parents?"

"Dead," came the cold reply. He had regressed back to his normal self, so it seemed. She didn't realize that he was desperate for sleep more than ever, that the mention of his parents was ripping open memories that he didn't want to remember.

"So they're not coming back? Like my mommy and daddy?"

"Just like them," he whispered. A surge of guilt swept over him. It was all his fault her parents were dead, all his fault his own parents were dead. What's worse, he couldn't even bring himself to tell her the truth—she believed that her parents were away somewhere, that they had left her behind, not that they had been murdered.

Bulma lapsed into silence. She hadn't known Vegeta's parents were gone. "How old were you when your parents died?" she asked him softly.

He replied promptly, almost as if he was prepared with the answer. "I was six when my father died. My mother died when I was younger, about four."

"Today I turned eight. How old are you?"

"Twelve."

"Do you remember your parents?"

"No. My father was killed and my mother died giving birth to my brother."

"Where's your brother?"

"He didn't survive." Vegeta felt an affectionate squeeze on his tail and his throat tightened involuntarily. These were topics that he had never talked about to anyone—not his father, not his friends, and certainly not his commanding officers. It had been eight years since his mother's and brother's death, yet the scars remained, as deep and tender as the day they were made.

Bulma asked, "Was your mommy pretty?"

"I-I don't remember," he lied. He couldn't talk about her anymore. He was running through one of his boxes of memories. Brief images of her passed before his eyes, each one smeared and distorted with age. The most vivid pictures he could recollect were from her funeral. With each memory, he became more and more bitter. Why couldn't the little girl go to sleep and leave him alone?

"What was your dad like?"

Again, Vegeta lied. "I don't know." His father, he knew, had tried to raise him accordingly, but had always remained distant and tragic, in a way. The young Saiyan tried to turn to him for comfort but received none. He was left to himself. In a way, this is what saved Vegeta when he lost everything—his self-preservation.

There was a long pause. Vegeta believed she had finally gone to sleep, thankfully. There wasn't much more he could take. Unfortunately, Bulma was just mulling over what he said. She finally asked him, "Do you miss them?"

She heard no response. After she waited a little bit longer, Vegeta still showed no signs of answering. Did he fall asleep? "Vegeta?" Again, there was no response. She climbed over his shoulder to look at his face.

The red glow of the digital alarm clock outlined his hard features. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were squeezed shut in resentment, yet distinct lines of moisture ran down his cheeks. The tears almost looked like blood pouring from his eyes, wounds that would never heal. Bulma was completely caught off-guard by this display, and she could only think of one thing to say.

"I'm sorry, Vegeta, I'm sorry. Please don't cry." She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. Surprisingly, he didn't push her away, he didn't yell, he didn't move; he just accepted her comfort.

"I never got to know them," he whispered catatonically. "They died when I was so young, I don't even know what they were like."

"I'm sorry, Vegeta. Don't cry anymore." Still hugging his neck, Bulma settled next to him, trying to calm him.

"They're dead because of me."

"Don't say that."

"It's all my fault."

"No, it isn't. Please don't cry. Please. It's not your fault."

* * *

The door hissed open, but the sleeping Saiyan Prince didn't notice, nor did the little girl clinging to his neck. Both dozed soundly as they were watched by two glassy pairs of eyes. The silhouettes of the outsiders' bodies could be seen in the dim glow of the hallway light, their faces distorted with the black of night.

"You see," the squat one said quietly, "I knew the Ape was up to no good when I was checking his room. You can always tell when they're hiding something. Thieving little cowards, aren't they?"

"Pathetic, really," the lean one concurred, casting a casual glance at his partner before scrutinizing the bed. "But look at what he's hiding: a female child. She looks human, too, except for that hair. But what to do with her? Should we show her to Lord Frieza, or should we keep her for… ourselves?"

The head of the first turned sharply at the inflection in the other's voice, then a grin clearly formed on his face. "Yes, what to do, what to do?" He chuckled softly, but something dark in his laughter stirred the Prince.

"…_Scheicompf_ Dodoria…" he mumbled in his sleep as he shifted in his bed, never waking up.

Now it was the other man's turn to snigger as the former grit his teeth in rage. "Did you hear what he called you, Dodoria?" the thin one laughed quietly, still trying to contain his amusement.

"Go to hell," the squat one, apparently Dodoria, said as he padded his way to the bedside. When he reached the bed and leaned over to inspect the girl, his face was revealed: a pink, pudgy countenance with swollen lips and baggy eyes. "We'll take her to Lord Frieza. He'll know what to do." Slowly, his plump fingers reached out greedily for Bulma's slumbering figure. She didn't stir or twitch as he advanced; all she did was inhale and exhale, slowly and steadily, in and out.

A hand closed around Dodoria's wrist.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Roughly, the pink alien was shoved back and his body collided awkwardly with the wall. He watched, slightly dazed, as Vegeta steadily approached him. Dodoria wasn't in a great deal of pain from the blow, but he was caught off-guard by the strength the young boy was displaying. Earlier that day, he had not been able to protect himself, yet here he was easily protecting another.

"Meddlesome Ape," Dodoria spat back as he pushed himself off the wall, "she is not your responsibility."

"She is not to be touched by filth like you." Vegeta took one menacing step forward, causing the older alien to flinch. "Now it is your turn to be taught a lesson." Slowly, he pinned the alien down and pulled back his fist, ready to strike.

"That's enough." The thin man, previously unnoticed by the boy, moved into the light from the hallway, yet his face remained shrouded in black.

Vegeta's head turned sharply at the sound of the voice and his eyes narrowed in recognition. He allowed his arm to drop to his side before stating, "So, you're in on it, too?"

The man smiled wryly. "Do you mean to tell me you didn't know?"

"I trusted you once, but I was wrong."

"Remember not to let it happen again. Those who trust don't live very long."

"I'll remember."

"Good." The man narrowed his eyes, then barked to Dodoria, "Dismissed!"

"Yes, sir!" the alien replied, snapping to attention before stiffly waddling out into the hallways.

The lean man's concentration turned back to Vegeta. "Now, give me the girl like a good little Ape and I'll leave your name out of this."

Vegeta hesitated with his response. The offer was a fair one: it would involve no physical pain on his part. But otherwise…. The boy looked at her reposing figure thoughtfully. She was huddled up in the covers, trying to find warmth in the worn rags.

When the boy turned back, he smiled softly and shook his head. "No."

Wordlessly, the man launched himself forward to attack. Vegeta could only see him disappearing before he was forced to the ground. Oddly, he felt no pain from the blow, so he tried to rise and fight back. All he managed to do was strain his neck. He was immobilized.

"What did you do to me, you bastard?" he asked severely, glaring at the lofty figure above him. A harsh laugh was the only response as the man advanced through the shadows to the little girl and picked her up brusquely. Bulma stirred in the man's arms and slowly opened her eyes.

"Where are we going?" she asked with a yawn.

"To Lord Frieza."

The mere mention of the name roused Vegeta's instincts. His widened eyes initially showed hatred, but the façade soon wore away into outright fear. "No! You can't take her there. He'll kill her!" In vain he tried to rise, but he was helpless. He couldn't escape. There was nothing he could do.

Bulma turned her head and caught a glimpse of the boy lying limp on the ground. "Vegeta? What's wrong?"

The Saiyan Prince ignored her; instead menacingly addressing the one who held her tightly in his arms. "Let her go."

"Lord Frieza doesn't want any humans on this ship. He ordered all of them to be exterminated."

"What's happening?"

"I don't care what Frieza says, she stays with me!"

"And what position are you in to talk? Just keep quiet and this will be less painful for us both."

"I guarantee it will be more painful for you if you take her to Frieza."

"We'll see how 'painful' it will be. I doubt your strength could ever match mine. You're too weak."

"Vegeta, I'm scared."

"Just let her go!"

The man suddenly yawned, feigning apathy. "I tire of this conversation. Goodbye, Vegeta."

As he walked out of the room, Bulma tried desperately to escape his grip. "Vegeta!" she screamed, attempting to climb over the man's shoulder. "I don't want to go! Help me, please!"

"I can't!" he cried out after her. His limbs refused to move. It was as if he was stuck in cement; intense pressure and discomfort froze his limbs in place. He couldn't even feel his body, much less control it. "I'm trying but I can't move!"

His words never seemed to reach her as she continually cried and struggled. When she was roughly grabbed, she shrieked Vegeta's name. The man curled his fingers around her neck and shoved her under his arm. Locking her in with his bicep, he created an impregnable hold around her middle.

"Bulma, hold on!" Vegeta shouted. By some trick of the light, he briefly saw himself being dragged away, but when he blinked, she returned to normal. Whoever was in the man's grip had to be saved. He had to save her; he had to save himself.

Hot tears rolled off her cheeks one by one, creating a watery trail behind her. Still, she reached her arms out to Vegeta, trying to grab a hand that he couldn't move. "Don't let him take me! Please, please! Vegeta, save me!"

There was a flash of gold, and he felt as if his very soul was set on fire—

* * *

Vegeta gasped for air as he sat up, quickly absorbing his surroundings. He was still in bed. The door was still closed. The girl was still huddled beside him, snuggling his tail affectionately.

It had all been a dream; or, rather, a nightmare.

Uneasily, he lay down on his back and stared inattentively at the ceiling. This dream he had, was it some kind of message? Who was that second person? Although he felt like he recognized him in his sleep, Vegeta couldn't recall his face. He just had the peculiar feeling that he knew him from somewhere.

Again, Vegeta quickly sat up. There was a sudden noise from outside the ship, an explosion of some sort. He scanned the room uneasily before relaxing. "Probably purging some more," Vegeta thought idly as he settled down for the night.


	4. Another

You'll all probably recognize this chapter; I didn't change it too much (if I remember correctly). I'm currently finishing up chapter ten and starting chapter eleven, which is when they all leave for Namek. Things are looking a lot more angsty and in character, so yay for me!

**UPDATE 08/11/2010:** This chapter has been edited.

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**Chapter Four**

**Another**

Each man stalked through the darkness quietly, making their way to the small house in the clearing of the forest. The guards' scouters received a strong reading from this humble abode, and they were ready for a fight. But nothing came their way except silence and uneasiness.

"Anything yet?" one scout mumbled into his headset.

"Negative."

A pause.

"Well, what now?"

"We go inside. We're not supposed to leave anyone alive, remember?" The attempt at humor, however poor, lightened the mood somewhat. Truth be told, both soldiers could sense something bad was coming their way.

The light of the full moon guided them to the threshold. The door opened noiselessly, revealing a dark room; incidentally, the only room in this small cottage. A loud noise caused both soldiers to jump, but they soon realized that the occupant was snoring in his sleep.

"This must be the power we're picking up on," one whispered. He stared down at the reposing figure of an old man.

"I guess. You can have the honors." As the older soldier raised his hand to kill the man, a piercing cry was heard. It was a baby. Quickly, both soldiers hid as the wails grew louder. Each man braced themselves defensively, waiting for the old man to awaken.

He never did. He kept right on snoring, oblivious to the earsplitting cries.

"Shit," the more experienced scout mumbled. "We need to get that kid to be quiet. If he wakes up the old man, we're dead."

"Right. I'll kill him first and get him out of the way." The younger man stealthily crawled to the source of the sound, a small cradle. He bent down to smother the kid. "Ow! What the hell?"

"What's wrong?"

"He bit me!"

The older soldier sighed, but he couldn't help smiling to himself. "Ooh, poor Kino was attacked by a toddler. How horrible…. I guess the old man will have to go first." Still sniggering, he turned to the old man and blew his head off. The explosion was deafening. Chunks of the wooden frame of the bed flew in every direction, along with bloodied feathers and gore. A bit splattered on the soldier, but he was used to it.

There was a shout and the elderly soldier saw the toddler disappear out the door, followed by the younger man. Sighing, the other soldier leisurely came behind. "What a dolt," he said to himself. "Can't even keep track of a human child." He heard some more yelling in the woods.

"Wait!" the young soldier called after the fleeing child. "Get back here!" He chased him down into a clearing. "That's right, stop running…." Slowing to a halt, he noticed the child was staring at something, almost in reverence and—if possible at such a young age—wholehearted longing. Curiously, he followed his gaze to the full moon.

"Just kill him now!" the superior officer's annoyed voice floated through the trees.

"Fine!" As the young man turned towards the child to finish the job, he froze.

The kid was easily as big as he was now and growing faster by the second. At his feet lay the pile of shredded clothes he had outgrown. A ferocious roar caused the young soldier to retreat a step. Hair was sprouting from every square inch of the child's body, covering him in a thick brown fur. "Wh-what the hell is he?" the young man finally managed to stutter.

The urgency in his question caused the older soldier to break into a run. When he saw the hideous primate transformation, he knew they were as good as dead. "He's a Saiyan! Get the hell outta there!"

It was too late. With one step of a gigantic foot, the soldier was reduced from a five foot nine humanoid to a writhing heap in the grass, barely able to take in his last shuddering breath.

Quickly, the senior officer acted. He dodged a direct blast and summoned enough ki to blow off the monster's tail, leaving the animal roaring in rage as he shrank back to his original state.

Unfortunately for the child, he was not prepared for the sudden shift in size. He came down hard on his head before the officer had a chance to react. The child was instantly knocked unconscious, a dark bruise forming on his temple from the impact. Had he been left in the woods, the child would have never made it, but fate happened to be on his side.

The older soldier knew couldn't kill the child. Not yet. Frieza would be interested to see that he hadn't succeeded in killing off every other Saiyan besides Vegeta.

He bent over and picked up the unconscious child carefully. The bruise was already swelling on the right side of the toddler's head, but other than that, the boy looked like he'd survive.

Without a backwards glance at his fallen comrade, the soldier rushed off to show Frieza the last earthling—a Saiyan warrior.

* * *

The royal chambers were at the head of the ship, cloaked in the artificial light from the ceiling. Large purple drapes hung down, telling guests that the alien sitting before them was, indeed, the Lord of the Universe. Frieza himself sat in a large marble throne etched with ancient symbols of peace, power and unity.

Inhaling deeply and steeling himself for the conversation, the captain stepped forward and bowed deeply. "Lord Frieza." In his arms, he held the unconscious child that had transformed only moments before.

"What do you want now, Aenuh?" The captain accepted this as an invitation and stepped forward.

"My Lord, I'm here to report the death of the last human on earth."

"Very good. You are dismissed."

"Master Frieza, there are a few more things…."

Frieza sighed and swirled his glass, avidly watching the wine perfectly mirror the lighting on the ship. "What more could there be?"

"Well Sir, Kino was killed during the mission."

"Hmm?" Frieza began to look a little more interested in the conversation. "Kino was one of the stronger foot soldiers. How could he be killed by an earthling?"

"That leads me to my next point, Lord Frieza. When Kino and I went to kill the last human, we found a child."

"What does that have—"

"A Saiyan child." Frieza simply stared as Aenuh continued. "When we were about to kill the man, this boy managed to get outside."

"There's a full moon tonight," Frieza stated blandly. "So you're saying the monkey killed Kino?"

"Yes, my Lord."

Frieza set his wineglass down and rose. "Where is this child?"

"Right here, my Lord." Aenuh set the boy down before Frieza and took a step back. "After I cut off his tail, he hit his head and hasn't woken up since."

With the heel of his foot, Frieza nudged the boy onto his back to examine him. "He's just unconscious." He was silent for a moment more. "You're dismissed, Aenuh."

"Yes, sir!" He bent down to pick up the child.

"Leave the monkey with me." Aenuh paused, casting a questioning glance in Frieza's direction. The alien continued, "You are to find the ship doctor and send him in here. I have a few questions for him." The inferior officer frowned, trying to see where this could lead, but eventually gave up.

"Thank you, my Lord," he said as he rose. A quick bow and he was in the hallway headed for the hospital wing. He didn't know what Frieza wanted from the doctor, but he didn't dare question him.

* * *

"H'limke, Frieza wishes to speak to you," Aenuh said as soon as he entered the doctor's office. He then noticed he had just walked in on another soldier's appointment. A young man was seated on the examination table, obviously angry about something.

Despite this fact, H'limke smiled at Aenuh and said, "It's perfectly fine. I'll head down in just a moment," before turning back to his patient. "Vegeta, I can't give you another food ration. That's final."

"But—"

"I don't care how much a Saiyan needs to eat. You're already can get three times the average ration. That's plenty. Now go back to your room."

The young boy growled audibly and stormed out of the room, shoving Aenuh back into the wall on his way out. H'limke sighed before turning back to the officer. "I apologize for Vegeta's behavior."

"No, it's fine." The doctor nodded, smiled, and began filing the paperwork as Aenuh continued. "I have heard about Prince Vegeta—the last Saiyan alive. Frieza would like to speak to you about that."

"Is that so?" Turning slightly to look at the foot soldier, H'limke's eyes showed slight confusion.

"Yes, sir."

When he received no further explanation, the doctor rose. "You can leave. I'll go alone."

* * *

H'limke was anxious when he arrived in the throne room. Frieza never spoke to him directly unless there was something wrong with the soldiers. His anxiety only worsened when he saw an unconscious boy lying at the foot of Frieza's throne.

"My Lord, why did you send for me?"

Frieza smirked at him and pleasantly said, "Ah, if it isn't my dear doctor." H'limke relaxed slightly, but inside he could feel something was wrong. "Come here and take a look at this boy. What do you notice?"

He stepped forward and bent over, checking the boy's vitals. "Lord, this can't be right. No human could have such a strong heartbeat when unconscious."

"Very good. I have been informed that he is not human at all."

The doctor's head snapped up. "What do you mean to tell me?"

"This boy is a Saiyan."

A long silence ensued. Finally, H'limke started, "I thought Vegeta wa—"

"It appears that we were wrong. The Saiyans commonly sent out children in space pods to destroy entire planets when they're still young. They believed that the weaker of the species needed to prove themselves by killing a planet by themselves. It is entirely possible that this one was one of those children. Given his age, if we tried to conquer the planet a few years later, there would be nothing left. Saiyans are born killers."

"Are you going to kill him?"

Frieza paused. "I could… but Saiyans do make such wonderful soldiers. I'm afraid it would be a waste to get rid of him."

"Is there something I'm supposed to do?"

Frieza smiled. "I'm so glad you asked. Take this boy and do the normal testing. Report to me his maximum power level and the sort. It's not likely that it will exceed Vegeta's, but if it's much too high to handle safely, I'll have him terminated. If not—"

"You'll keep him on as a soldier?"

"My, you catch on quickly. You've learned since then." The alien smirked as H'limke's jaw tightened. "I want those reports by 0600 tomorrow morning. Is that clear, doctor?"

"Yes, my Lord. Just one more question—what will you do in the mean time with him? Who's going to take care of him?"

Frieza paused for a moment. "Maybe we could dump the child on Vegeta. I do enjoy irony so."

Ruefully, the doctor smiled and slowly lifted the small boy into his arms. "Very well. I'll run the tests now and get the report back to you as soon as possible." He bowed deeply and took his leave, Frieza watching his retreat with a small smirk gracing his lips.

* * *

Vegeta woke up to a soft growling noise. He cocked an eye open to search the room, but found nothing suspicious. He heard the noise again, and couldn't help but smirk when he realized what it was. The little girl's stomach was growling. He tipped his chin to check on her and found her still asleep.

Quietly, he slipped from her grasp and pulled on his boots. His ration card was in the first drawer, next to her capsules, and he snatched it before padding softly out of the room. The cafeteria was just down the hallway, serving food from all corners of Frieza's conquered galaxies. Vegeta took his place in line and waited boredly for his turn.

Just then, his ears picked up an interesting bit of a nearby conversation.

"…and then the boy had transformed at the full moon…."

He froze. The speaker was further ahead in line, talking softly to his companion. Vegeta strained his heightened hearing to its fullest extent, trying to pick up on the conversation without being obvious.

"It killed one of the men," the man was saying. "The other one managed to knock it out somehow and bring it back here."

"I think I've heard about something like that," another man added. "Except it didn't transform into an ape, but some kind of cat." Vegeta's heart sank. The conversation continued, each claim wilder than the last. Vegeta, after a moment, humphed and gathered up an armful of food to take back to the room. He was angry with himself for believing them, even for a moment. No one of his kind was left, he knew that as a fact. The other two survivors had been killed before his very eyes.

There was no way another could be alive.

With that thought, he began to trek back to his room.

* * *

"Lord Frieza, I have the results," H'limke said as he stooped into a bow.

"Yes?"

"The boy retained some head trauma from the fall. He won't remember anything except basic speech and motor skills. Fortunately, he will be able to relearn a lot of what he lost, but as for now, he is ignorant of his race and status."

"Excellent." Frieza turned to look outside the ship. He and his crew had taken off earlier in the morning and now they were coasting through space, slowly making their way back to Ice-sei, his home planet. But his thoughts did not linger there. One question was still troubling him. "What of the Ape's power level?"

"The projection showed it will not exceed two thousand."

Frieza's lips twisted into a cruel smile. "Perfect." Behind him, H'limke rose.

"Should I give the boy to Vegeta now?"

"Not yet. Keep the Ape in the hospital a couple of months so he can recover fully and relearn his history, excepting my involvement." Frieza turned in his chair and H'limke was taken aback by the cold smile the alien wore. "Teach him to worship me."

"My Lord?"

"I want this little Saiyan to trust me wholeheartedly, to follow my every command without question. Maybe he could teach Vegeta a thing or two about _obedience_."

H'limke, too shocked to reply, simply swept into another deep bow before Frieza dismissed him.


	5. Weak

Hah, I was scared for a minute because wasn't allowing me to upload files, but it's cool - I just exported an old chapter and wrote over it. That was kinda scary, though...

**UPDATE 08/11/2010:** This chapter has been edited.

* * *

**Chapter Five**

**Weak**

"Wake up, girl." Vegeta tore off the covers as he pulled his shirt over his head. "It's already five forty and we haven't cleaned up yet."

"Five more minutes," she moaned, dragging her knees up to her chest for warmth. "I want some more sleep."

"You've already had ten more minutes, just like every other Saturday for the past two weeks. Now get out of there!" To make his point, Vegeta physically forced Bulma out of bed. "Hurry up."

Bulma made a face at him and began to make the bed that she had been so comfortable in just moments earlier. To shake off her fatigue, she started to translate parts of Vegeta's sentences into Saiya-go. "Hurry up… _veeil dish_. Get out… _austien_. Week… uh… _wu_… _wu_—"

"_Wuche_."

Bulma giggled as she pulled out the last of the creases. "I remember now. _Wuche_. Week." She turned just as Vegeta had finished scrubbing the bathroom floor. He rocked back on his heels to examine his handiwork. "I've been here for two weeks already?" she asked lightly as she rooted around for her clothing capsule.

"More." Vegeta tossed the dirty rag into the sink and rose while the whirring noise and rustling of clothes told him Bulma was dressing. Courteously, he closed the door and began to wash his face, examining his countenance in the dingy mirror. His eyes were cloudy with fatigue, battle and worry—haunted in a way. But that would soon lessen. When he and Bulma arrived on Lord Frieza's home planet, they would be able to stay in a nicer place: a kitchen, a larger bathroom, even a small backyard. It would give her a little more freedom and independence. And it was all only two more months away. Two more months until she was safe.

"Vegeta, it's almost six o'clock," Bulma whispered through the door. "Can you take off the floorboard?"

"Coming." He slipped out of the bathroom just as she finished pulling on her socks. "Are you ready?"

"…Yes." Vegeta pointedly ignored the pause as he pulled up the floor tile. Granted, she sank down into the opening faster than the previous week, but it was still hard for her to willfully climb into the darkness.

As he began to move the tile over her hiding space, Bulma gasped. "Vegeta, wait, I forgot—"

The knock.

Knowing that Dodoria couldn't understand Saiya-go, he told Bulma, "_Es ast wate_." It can wait. Vegeta closed the tile softly and positioned himself. "Come in."

Inspection went fairly well, considering Dodoria found only a few minor things to complain about. Vegeta was quickly developing an invulnerability to his prejudiced remarks; his mind simply dwelled on Bulma's well-being instead. He was starting to worry about her activity-levels. Stuck in a room all day, she received no exercise or sunlight. Now she was listless, more tired. He used his time to think of how she could get some exercise without the guards finding her.

"Ape! I asked you what this is!"

Vegeta grunted as he came to. "What's what?"

"This." Dodoria revealed a palm-sized capsule.

Bulma's capsule.

The poor Saiyan was stunned. What could he say? There was an eight-year-old hiding under the floor boards? Dodoria persisted in his questioning. "Did you find this on earth?" Again, no response. Although Vegeta's mind was furiously trying to come up with a plausible lie, nothing was sufficient. If Dodoria thought it was a piece of technology from earth, then—

"I'll take it to the lab." Dodoria smirked before he was out the door.

In the five seconds it took for Dodoria to waddle out the door, Vegeta had let vital evidence of Bulma's presence outside. It would now be taken to the lab, where the writing on the label would be analyzed, the capsule taken apart and rebuilt, prodded and scrutinized, until someone would manage to open it and find a gigantic box of girl's clothing. On a ship full of men, it would be glaringly obvious that something was amiss, and the capsule would be traced back to him… and they'd find her…. It wasn't just this that bothered the Saiyan Prince. He hadn't even protested its removal.

"Vegeta…." The floorboard rattled, prying the boy from his thoughts. He threw the sheet of metal aside and yanked Bulma from the depths, placing her beside him and kneeling down to get her full attention.

"Listen. I'm going out for a bit. Stay here and be quiet."

"I forgot to put away that capsule. I'm sorry."

"I'll be right back. Just stay here. Inside of here."

"Did he find it? Did he take it?" Bulma gazed at him while he repeatedly explained that everything would be alright. "I'll be fine," he finished. After staring for a beat more, she simply attached herself to his neck. "Please don't go." Her voice trembled. "You're going to get hurt again."

Vegeta normally pushed her away when she tried to hug him, but this time was different. He could feel moisture from her eyes seeping through his shirt and onto his shoulder. "So what? I'll heal." He didn't add that he'd rather take a whipping than see another dead by his mistakes. Breaking her hold with reluctance, Vegeta lowered her back into the darkness and pressed the floorboard over her.

The walk to the laboratory was a long one, but it didn't seem nearly as long as the walk from the entrance to the supervisor, even though his chair was only twenty feet in. It was Vegeta's reluctance that made time sluggish. He could take a beating fairly well from most laboratory supervisors, but when he saw that long braid of green hair dangling over the edge of the chair, his eyes narrowed in apprehension. Zarbon.

Nevertheless, he approached the supervisor without apparent hesitation. Never show your weaknesses to the enemy. "Good morning, Commander Zarbon," Vegeta greeted through clenched teeth. The alien smiled slickly at him as he continued. "Dodoria brought in a small capsule earlier today and I've come to claim it. It didn't come from earth; it's mine."

"I see," Zarbon replied. "I believe Slech is working on it. I'll take you to him." Rising gracefully, the green-skinned alien lead him toward the back of the lab. It didn't surprise Vegeta that—so far—the confrontation was painless. He knew Zarbon incredibly well.

Slech was sitting at a lab table, busily examining the capsule with a magnifying glass. He was a slimy-looking character with amazing mental capabilities, albeit a weak body. The kind of person who was easily manipulated by the Saiyan Prince.

"That belongs to me, Slech."

The alien's head snapped up in shock. "Pr-prince Vegeta, what a pleasant surprise."

"I said that was mine. Give it to me."

"Thi-this is yours?" The scientist's startled air turned into one of downright alarm. "I'm s-so s-s-sorry! Please, please take it!" Quickly, the capsule was shoved into his hands, another chain of apologies with it. Vegeta looked smugly at Zarbon before turning to leave.

As he walked out, he could feel the blow. The force, while fast, possessed enough strength to bring Vegeta to his knees. "Get up, Ape. _No one_ mocks me." The voice sounded far away compared to his hampered breathing and the screaming pain in his head. Unsteadily, he pushed himself off the floor, only to be beaten down once again….

There is nothing he hated worse than lies. Mendacity. Hypocrisy. All of it. How could someone appear kind and be detestable at the same time?

The memory of the fight was hazy, clouded with blood. All he could remember as he staggered towards his room were the eyes. Everyone had been watching. No one had helped him fight that bastard. He was fumbling with the key pad. His fingers were numb.

Vegeta could hardly lift his eyelids. Before him, the sterile grey of the room morphed into one color—hopelessness. Would he ever be able to defend himself? What about her? Was he too weak to save her? When he allowed his eyes to close, he just saw pain. Best to keep them open.

Stumbling, he lifted the sheet of metal and heaved her out of the hole's depths, collapsing to his knees when she was safe. "Are you okay?" A blob of blue and white appeared in his line of vision. He groaned in response and fell back, lying prone on the floor. The figure moved before his vision, evolving into a child's worried face. "Vegeta, please tell me what happened!"

Despite his condition, Vegeta pulled off a small smirk and he held out his palm. "I got the capsule back."

* * *

She blankly stared at the contents of her stomach. It was soupy—white like clam chowder but not as thick. The slow drip of vomit trickling from her mouth tickled, but she couldn't muster the strength to wipe it off. She didn't like throwing up, but whenever she had the flu, it always seemed to make her feel better afterwards. It didn't work this time, though. Her mouth still hurt. She was still dizzy. And she was still tired. Stooping over the toilet bowl, Bulma unwillingly heaved again. She could hear the acid pouring out of her into the basin. It made her feel even worse.

Her head lifted when she heard a knock. "What're you doing in there? It's eleven o'clock." She held in her tears as best as she could. Vegeta didn't like crying. But she felt so horrible….

"I feel sick." He didn't reply, and it upset her somehow. She slowly bent back over the toilet and sighed. Why was her head hurting so much?

"Can I come in?"

"Uh-huh." The door opened and Vegeta poked his head in, squinting under the bright light.

"What's wrong with you?"

Bulma didn't look up from the toilet seat. "I threw up."

His tired eyes opened a little wider as he asked, "Huh? What do you mean?" Her head just sunk lower over the toilet bowl as she coughed up a little more phlegm. "I threw up."

"What's wrong?" he asked again, more alarmed.

"I feel dizzy… and thirsty, too."

Vegeta snorted softly. "Is that all?" he asked lightly as he threw open the door and grabbed his speckled glass from the bathroom shelf. "All you need is some water." He filled the cup with a grey liquid and held it out to her. "Hurry up and drink it so I can get some sleep."

Tentatively, she held out her hand to take it, then brought it under her chin to stare at it through half-closed eyes. "It looks gross."

"Just drink it."

She obediently brought the cup to her lips and took a few swallows. A moment later, she was heaving into the toilet again. In frustration, tears fell from her eyes. "I can't drink it." Something suddenly occurred to Vegeta.

"When was the last time you had a drink?" Slowly, she frowned to think, pressing her head to the cold metal wall to keep herself awake.

"I…I can't remember. I want to go to sleep."

"No one's stopping you," Vegeta said absently as he replaced the cup on the bathroom shelf.

"But I can't get up," she replied numbly. "I'm too tired."

All of her symptoms were adding up in his mind. One more thing could confirm his diagnosis. "Come here," he said gruffly as he tugged on her wrist. She crawled slowly into his arms and closed her eyes as he picked her up. There was no question now, he knew. The heat her body was giving off was much higher than normal, and her skin left imprints from his touch, failing to spring back. She hadn't been drinking properly since she had arrived, about three weeks ago. Bulma needed water.

He gently replaced her on the bed and retrieved the glass, once again filling it with the murky water from the sink. "Drink this," he ordered. For ten minutes, all he did was give her water, but her temperature was not improving, nor was her condition. Vegeta consistently had to shake her awake so she could continue to drink.

"I don't want any more water. I want to sleep."

"Quiet. Drink this." Again, he held the glass to her lips, but she pulled away.

"No more!" Thrashing, Bulma turned aside and curled up in the covers. He sighed in exasperation.

"Fine!" He slammed the glass on the table, shattering it instantly. "Go to sleep, see what I care!" Vegeta waited for her to whine back, but she said nothing. She wasn't moving anymore. "Bulma?" He nudged her shoulder but she didn't stir. His gentle prodding soon turned into a frenzied shake, but there was no response.

He cussed under his breath. This was not good. She had now slipped into unconsciousness and—unless she was rushed to the doctor—she might not wake up. What could he do now? Should he risk keeping her in the room or did he dare…?

"Damn it," he muttered. "This isn't good." He pulled up the chair and sat beside her, but it didn't look like she'd wake up soon. He used the opportunity to rebuke himself. Why hadn't he noticed the signs? He could have helped her somehow, tried to do something to prevent this… because now….

Vegeta brushed her hair out of her eyes as he felt for her temperature. It hadn't gone down; in fact, it had gotten worse in a matter of fifteen minutes. There were only two things that came to mind—he could wait longer to see if she improved or he could take her to H'limke.

There was no ideal way to go about this. Both were dangerous and would require lots of sneaking around, which was not a good idea on Frieza's ship. And if he did bring her to the doctor, would she stay a secret? Vegeta had trusted H'limke before, but it wasn't the same kind of thing. She was much more important… but then again, could the doctor help?

Bulma groaned in her sleep.

That was it. He had to do something. "I know I'm going to regret this later," he grunted as he gathered all the sheets in his arms, wrapping Bulma in a way which would hide her from the patrolling guards.

The young Saiyan knew the way to the doctor's office well, since he visited almost weekly. He knew the doctor, too, more or less; as well as he could know anyone on the ship. Vegeta had even learned some of H'limke's language, not that it would do him any good elsewhere; the Rondalians were almost extinct due to a severe meteor shower fourteen years prior.

The ground was only illuminated by the faint glow of the fluorescent lights lining the hallway tiles. His footsteps echoed against the steel walls. In his arms, he could feel the steady breathing pattern of the little girl he had saved only three weeks before. Maybe she wouldn't have to suffer much longer….

"Bah," Vegeta thought. "She won't die from a lack of water if I have anything to do with it."

When he got to the hospital wing, he slowed down and searched for any guards lurking in the shadows. Only when he was satisfied that no one was around did he burst through the door.

"_Cum hasto_, Vegeta?" H'limke asked cheerfully, unsurprised despite the late hour. "Why do you have—"

"There's no time." He undid the blankets and lifted Bulma onto a medical cot. "She's very sick."

The older alien wasted no time. He strode from his chair to the table and helped Vegeta lay her down. Analyzing her quickly, the doctor became even more perplexed. "What is she?" Gently, he brushed her hair from her forehead. "A hum—"

"Human, yes. She's also unconscious. Can we save the formalities for another time?"

"Very well," H'limke reluctantly agreed, then his manner transformed as he began to examine her. "How did she get like this?"

As Vegeta explained what had happened in the room, the doctor checked her temperature and the like, muttering occasional interjections. He finally sighed to himself.

"Sounds like dehydration to me. Go back to your room, Vegeta. I'll take care of her."

"No. I'm staying until I know she's safe."

"She's not going to wake up until she's stabilized, and that won't happen for sure until tomorrow morning. Go to bed."

The intensity of the glare H'limke received from the boy was all but staggering, yet Vegeta obeyed. Right before he opened the door, though, he paused, leaving his back to the doctor. "If Frieza hears of her presence," he pronounced, "I will not rest until I see your ashes floating in space."

After the door slid shut, H'limke sighed and gave a forlorn smile to the unconscious child on the examination table. Gently lifting her, he took Bulma down the glistening main hallway to the last door on the right. Instead of more sterile white inside this room, however, there were colors and toys. A small cot in a corner of the room nestled a yawning child.

"Whaz goin' on?" the young boy asked tiredly. "Who's that?"

As the doctor placed Bulma on a different cot, he hushed the young boy. "It's just a girl."

"A girl?" The child sat up to see her better while H'limke searched his pocket for the right pill.

"Yes, that's right. She's very sick. You can see her in the morning, if she's awake."

The young boy yawned again as he settled into his covers. "Do all girls look like that? With blue hair?"

H'limke laughed softly and replied, "I don't think so."

"Oh, okay. Night, then."

"Good night." After he finished giving Bulma the medicine, H'limke rose and started for the door.

"Wait, Mister Garnet, I have a name now!"

Interestedly, the man turned back to the little boy. "Really? How did you come up with it?"

"I had a dream where an old man was eating dinner with me. He called me Goku a lot. I… I liked it."

"Goku?" H'limke smiled kindly. "Alright, Goku. I'll see you in the morning."


	6. Deboarding

I just finished the Twilight series yesterday, and now I'm obsessed with that, too. I'm such a sad person! But don't worry - Vegeta and Bulma will be together before I start posting anything else major. Unless I really feel like it or something.

* * *

**Chapter Six**

**Deboarding**

Vegeta had not seen her for a month. It wasn't that she was deathly ill, but between obligations and security, he could barely find a safe time to go without arousing suspicion. Whenever he could go to the hospital ward—and he would purposely get into fights in order to create a necessity—H'limke would refuse, citing the congestion during daytime hours.

This did not discourage the Prince; he tried vainly on a daily basis to see her. He also asked himself on a daily basis why. Vegeta had never missed anyone, yet this girl whom he had known for a mere three weeks had already conquered his thoughts.

His mind was full of her when there was a sharp rap on his door. He started, then, remembering his whereabouts, stood at attention. "Come in." When the door slid open to allow the doctor's entrance, Vegeta's façade instantly dropped. He managed to wait until the door closed before he eagerly asked, "Can I see her now?"

"Tonight, 2300," H'limke replied with a kind smile. "I'm the only doctor on duty and the only patient we have is under heavy sedation."

"_Goseidant_." The Saiyan cracked a small smile at this news. "Thank you for your help." He started to move towards the door, as if showing H'limke the way out, but the doctor stood his ground. "Is there something wrong?" Vegeta questioned, almost innocently.

"You never told me why you have a human on board. Frieza ordered the race terminated. She's supposed to be dead."

"So am I," Vegeta snapped back. "Just because we should be something doesn't make it a fact."

"Fine. But why her? Why a little girl?"

The Saiyan cast his eyes towards the floor. "She was the only human I met face to face. And she helped me, even though she didn't know me, even though I killed…." He left it at that.

H'limke sighed and asked gently, "Have you told her yet?" The boy shook his head no. "You'd better not until she's ready. She won't understand now." Vegeta remained silent. Again, the doctor heaved a sigh and patted the boy's shoulder as he opened the door. He left without a goodbye.

* * *

Snaking in and out of the shadows, Vegeta crept towards the hospital wing as quickly as he dared. He knew he might have problems on the way back with her without anything to cover her up, but it was better than being caught wandering around at night with an arm-full of sheets. He was less conspicuous without them. 

Slipping into the doctor's office was easy enough, and soon H'limke came to meet him. "Ah, Vegeta, she can go with you today. Right now, she's in the back." The young Saiyan trailed behind, keenly watching for any signs of potential spies.

"Does anyone else know she's here?"

"Well, yes and no." The door slid open, revealing a sleeping Bulma. "There's a boy from earth here as well."

"I thought all the humans except her were killed," he whispered as he approached Bulma's cot.

"They were." The Prince stared at him, puzzled, compelling H'limke to finish his account. "On earth, we had a casualty caused by a young child. It turns out that he was, in fact, an alien. A Saiyan, to be exact."

"Very funny." It was then he noticed another head beside Bulma's. The hair jutted wildly in all directions, save a cowlick on the crown of the head. Vegeta pointed his finger at the child. "Are you talking about this kid?"

"Yes. He tells me his name is Goku."

"Goku?" The prince spat out the name with disgust. "That is not a Saiyan name."

"I wouldn't expect it to be. He hit his head when he was transforming back to a human. I was ordered to run some medical tests on him—"

"Who ordered that?"

"Lord Frieza, of course."

The Saiyan suddenly flew into rage. " 'Of course'! What do you mean 'of course'? That bastard will have him killed! Do you mean to tell me that the only other living member of my race is going to be slaughtered?" As he harshly whispered his protests, the girl beside him stirred.

"Vegeta?" she yawned. His attention immediately turned to her.

"What?" Seeing him for the first time in months, she grinned and jumped up, hugging him around his neck.

"It's you!" she whispered into his chest. Awkwardly, he patted her head and said, "Start getting ready because we're going back."

"Is Goku coming with us?"

H'limke stepped forward. "He is."

"Yay!"

"He is?" Vegeta's stare turned to H'limke. "Who says?"

"Lord Frieza."

Bulma started to nudge the sleeping toddler awake. "Come on, Goku!" she said brightly. "We're going now." He awoke with a massive yawn, rubbing his eye with his fist. When he saw Vegeta, though, he immediately brightened.

"My name's Goku! What's yours?"

So shocked was Vegeta from this display of warmth, he turned to H'limke again. "You call this a Saiyan?"

"But I am a Saiyan! Mister Garnet said so!"

" 'Mister Garnet'? What the hell is going on?"

The doctor pressed a finger to his lips and shut the door behind him before replying, "I told them to call me 'Garnet', my name in Standard. They couldn't pronounce my real name." Vegeta rolled his eyes to reveal how much he cared before he turned to the children.

"Let's get out of here." He started for the door but was stopped by H'limke. "What do you want, Garnet?" Sarcasm oozed from his voice.

"There are still a few things I have to say. First of all"—he pulled a card from his pocket—"Goku needs a meal card to get food. I made it so he will also get enough to feed Bulma a proper diet. She needs more than just meat. Got it?" Vegeta nodded, seemingly apathetic. "Secondly, I've obtained an extra cot for you to have." He absently waved towards a folded one leaning against the wall, which Vegeta picked up.

"Is that all?"

"One more thing—Goku's training lies in your hands." The Prince casually saluted Garnet before herding Bulma and Goku out the door. H'limke peeked out after them, hoping that somehow, things would turn out well for them.

The trio ambled down the medical hallway, but before they left the wing, Vegeta took them aside. "I need you two to be quiet," he whispered. "No talking until we're in the room." He then opened the door and the three were on their way.

Despite the late hour, both Goku and Bulma were jittery from the excitement, creating a lot more noise than Vegeta would have liked them to. Nevertheless, they reached the room without trouble.

"This is where I sleep now?" Goku asked as he wandered into the room.

"Yes. Here's the cot." As soon as Vegeta had unfolded the bed, the younger Saiyan plopped himself down and immediately fell into a deep sleep, snoring loudly. Bulma giggled tiredly as she climbed into bed, followed by Vegeta. He felt her settle down behind him, but she soon started.

"Ooh, I almost forgot!" She pecked him on the cheek. "G'night, Vegeta."

He just humphed, even though he could feel his face flushing. "Silly little girl," was the last thing he thought before he fell asleep.

* * *

"All crew, prepare for landing and deboarding." Vegeta hoisted the cardboard box higher into his arms and tilted the lid open. 

"It'll be about forty-five minutes until I can get you out of here. Be absolutely quiet and do not move out of this box until I open it. Understand?" Inside, he could barely perceive a blue head nodding yes behind his clothing.

Goku and Vegeta were at attention in their room, waiting to be dismissed. Arrangements had already been made for a bigger complex so Goku and Vegeta could be together, and—thankfully—there would be another bedroom so Bulma could have her own. As for now, though, there was a nervous silence.

Vegeta carefully shifted the box in his arms. He had spent three months with Bulma, and already he felt a strong attachment to her. This risk, although necessary for him to take, was unsettling. So many things could go wrong, it pained him to think about it.

Next to him, the small Saiyan was holding a sack over his shoulder. Since he had no garments of his own, he was carrying the clothes that Vegeta couldn't fit in his box. Goku passed the time by staring at everything—the tiled ceiling, the metal furniture, his new friend, nothing could hide from his eyes. Not even the loose floor tile.

"Vegeta, what is that for? That tile over there?"

"That's where Bulma hid during room inspections. You know that."

"Yeah, but didn't you have it before? What do you keep in there?"

"Just…boxes."

"Boxes of what?"

"My things."

"Like what?"

"It doesn't matter. Stop asking useless questions."

There was a knock. Both Goku and Vegeta snapped to attention just as the door slid open, admitting both H'limke and Dodoria.

"Ah, it's the apes' turn," Dodoria chuckled to himself. "Let me have your bag and box. The doctor will check to see if you are physically well to disembark."

"These two already are," H'limke cut in. "I checked them this morning." He had also given Bulma a vaccination to prevent her from getting sick.

"Fine. Hand over the baggage." Goku removed the pack from his shoulder and happily handed it over to the lieutenant, but Vegeta quirked an eyebrow.

"What are you doing with it?"

"Lord Frieza ordered us to hold on to personal items. They will be delivered to your room as quickly as possible."

"I can handle my own things."

"It's an order, Ape. Hand it over." Vegeta tightened his grip on the box, preparing for anything, but H'limke stepped forward.

"Vegeta, it's alright. I'll take care of it." There was a pause, and in that time, Vegeta slowly handed the box to the doctor.

Dodoria was highly amused. "Very good, doctor. Maybe Lord Frieza should have you make the Ape behave." H'limke cast a glance at the Prince, who had his fists clenched at his side, and smiled ruefully.

"Garnet, where are you taking her?" Goku asked loudly.

The reaction was immediate. There was a gasp from H'limke's direction. A gloved hand slammed over Goku's mouth. "Don't say another word," Vegeta breathed into his ear. Dodoria, of course, was completely in the dark.

"What is the boy talking about?"

Vegeta's eyes widened slowly as he turned to his superior. "He…keeps on using feminine words to refer to the box. I don't know why."

"I can explain," H'limke quickly added. "The child, as you may or may not know, has hit his head. He's still having trouble with language skills."

Dodoria just nodded, although he looked somewhat confused and vaguely suspicious. "Fine. These two are ready for de-boarding." He took Goku's bag with him and tossed it on a dolly just outside the door. "H'limke, put the box on here."

"Yes," he responded hesitantly, gingerly placing the box on top of the pile. "This is fragile, right Vegeta?" The Saiyan prince nodded, but Dodoria merely shrugged and continued down the hall, rolling the dolly in front.

Vegeta watched them go before he turned to the younger Saiyan. "Let's get going. We need to be at the house before the baggage arrives."

* * *

Bulma sat huddled into the smallest space she could take up, as the clothing around her had spread out during her journey. The constant motion and blackness made her ill, but she bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut, clutching the chain around her neck hard enough to turn her knuckles white. When everything was over, Vegeta would open the box and she would be safe. It was just like the hole under the floorboard. No one could find her here. She was safe. 

The box slipped forwards a little and Bulma took in a sharp breath. The dolly was stopped somewhere. There was some talking in a weird language that sounded like grunting, and she felt the box lifted and moved somewhere else.

She was moving again, away from the sudden commotion behind her. It sounded like a fight was going on or something, so Bulma was relieved that she had managed to avoid it. Now the ride was a lot smoother and she began to feel more comfortable. There were many turns, like she was going down a long corridor, but she finally felt the movement slowing and, eventually, coming to a halt.

Bulma felt the box make contact with solid ground and she smiled. Vegeta would get her out soon. Above her, she heard some kind of knock before the clunking of boots faded away. She heard the door slide open and felt the box being dragged in. It took everything she had not to pop out of the box and surprise Vegeta.

The top opened and she looked up expectantly.

"Well, what do we have here?" A face smirked down at her and Bulma gasped. "A little girl with blue hair? This explains quite a bit." The man had hazel eyes that bored into hers. She willed her eyes shut and covered her face with some stray clothing, but she felt herself being lifted up.

"Stop it!" she cried, trying to kick him. He merely laughed, his eyes glistening with malicious curiosity.

"How did you get on the ship, little one?" he asked, still slightly chuckling. "A mere human child should never have been able to knock out two guards." Bulma held back her tears and hid behind a curtain of blue hair. "Come now, don't be so stubborn!"

"I want to go home," she whispered. "I want to go home."

The young man raised his eyebrows and smiled again. "You can't go home. The planet has been sold."

Tears spilled out of her eyes. "Then I want to talk to Vegeta."

This news greatly surprised the man. "Vegeta? You mean Prince Vegeta?" He laughed uproariously. "Oh, this is just too perfect!"

"Let go of me!" Bulma tried to kick again, but the man grabbed her legs and forced her to be still, holding her like a child.

"My name is Zarbon," he said to her softly. "Be nice and maybe I'll be able to take you to see Vegeta."

* * *

The two Saiyans tromped down the hallway to their room, keeping an eye out for a place to get their baggage. Unfortunately, they saw none, and they were fast approaching their quarters. 

"This is getting ridiculous," Vegeta muttered to himself as he rounded the final corner. He suddenly spotted Dodoria on the other end of the hallway with the dolly and snapped to attention. Goku tried to mimic him but utterly failed, as he couldn't maintain the stoic stare. The alien walked up and laughed heartily.

"Can't you teach him to wipe that disgusting smile off his face, Ape?"

"Later," Vegeta said smoothly, ignoring the racial remark. "Do you have our luggage?" Dodoria shrugged but began to look through the contents on the dolly, finally coming up with the duffle for Goku.

"Here, take it." He tossed it to Vegeta and began to waddle away, but the older Saiyan stopped him.

"What about the box I had?"

"All fragile items must be checked by the commander for valuables that will further the cause," he replied automatically. "You'll get the box back eventually, if it's not in your room now." Vegeta paled and allowed the alien to slide out of his grip. He stood for a second, frozen to the spot with worry and fear.

"Uh, Vegeta, whassa matter?" Instead of responding, the Prince dashed the last few yards to his residence and quickly scurried in. He began to search all the rooms in his complex as Goku watched through the open door. "Prince Vegeta?" The older Saiyan muttered something that even Goku's ears couldn't catch. "What?"

"She's not here. She's not here. She's not…." He sank to his knees in the middle of the room, staring blankly at the wall in front of him. "She's gone," he whispered to himself. He felt a hand on his shoulder and started, but it was only the young boy.

"Dodoria said that we'd get the box back. Maybe we'll get it later." Goku's face was already brighter with the prospect of seeing his other friend, but Vegeta was confident he was wrong. Nevertheless, he sat up to wait.

* * *

Frieza was looking out the window in his throne room when the messenger announced the arrival of his commander. "Let him in," he said in a bored tone of voice. It took a minute or so, but Zarbon was soon led in. 

"Lord Frieza," he said, performing a sweeping bow. "I have discovered something that might interest you."

"And what would that be?"

"A human girl." Frieza looked over his shoulder, surprise evident in his eyes.

"A human? Where did you find her?"

"In Vegeta's baggage."

The lord turned back to look out the window. "This purging mission gets more entertaining every day, doesn't it?"

* * *

"Vegeta, how long do we have to wait?" the younger Saiyan asked with a gigantic yawn. The clock read 2330, yet they were both sitting up and waiting for the box to arrive. 

"How the hell should I know?" he snapped back. "They've never had this system before. I don't know how long it takes."

"Okay." Goku nestled up in a nearby chair and promptly fell asleep, but Vegeta was still wide awake. There was still a chance the box would arrive.

About thirty minutes later, his patience was rewarded. As soon as he heard the knock, he was on his feet, right at the door. It slid open and he looked up only to find the last humanoid in the world he wanted to see.

"My, Vegeta, you certainly stay up late. Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"Zarbon," Vegeta replied through his teeth. "Why are you here?"

The alien apathetically handed a package over to Vegeta. "Those are your clothes, I believe. They were in that box you had." Zarbon continued to talk, but Vegeta wasn't listening to him. He could only stare at the package of clothes that Bulma had been sitting in only hours before.

"Where's the rest?" he interrupted numbly.

"Hm?" Zarbon looked clueless for a moment before remembering. "Oh, right. Well, some of your items were too valuable to be in your possession. We took the liberty of—"

"We?"

Lazily, he blinked at Vegeta. "Why, I naturally had to report this to higher authority. Very valuable indeed. Lord Frieza agreed with me." When Zarbon glanced at the boy in front of him, he immediately smirked. He had hit a nerve. "In fact, Lord Frieza was struck by the girl's features. Apparently, blue hair isn't very common amongst earthlings and she may be in high demand when she matures. In the meantime, Lord Frieza has requested that I take care of her."

"You bastard!" Vegeta shouted. He threw the clothes aside and pounced. The flurry of punches and kicks that followed was difficult for even Zarbon to dodge, but he managed. It only took one hook to knock the Saiyan off-balance, and the alien used that time to pin him to the ground.

"Let me give you a piece of advice," Zarbon breathed in his ear. "Stay away from her. She's mine now." He loosened his grip, thinking Vegeta had settled. Instead, Zarbon found himself pressed to the floor, a knee on the back of his neck.

"You're wrong. You're wrong." The prince started to tremble—whether from fear, rage, or defeat, he couldn't tell.

"If you don't want to taste the floor, let go of me." Blue waves of energy began to radiate from Zarbon's body, and Vegeta found himself unwillingly pushed backwards, off his attacker's body and up against a wall. The superior rose and brushed off invisible dust from his uniform. "That's better. Now,"—he turned back to Vegeta, a glimmer of malice in his eyes—"touch me again and you will regret it. Understand?" Vegeta responded by spitting in his face and was immediately slammed to the floor. "Do you understand now?" Zarbon said. Laughing slightly, he gave the Saiyan a little kick before leaving.

When he heard the door close, Vegeta let himself go. He spit out the blood from his mouth and kicked the wall next to him, screaming in frustration. This was not supposed to happen. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Death was a better fate for her.

Vegeta was still fuming while he unpacked his clothes. When he came upon the small package of capsules, he silently slipped them into a nearby box and shoved it under his bed.


	7. Savior

Can you believe that I have such a busy day today, I almost forgot to post? But no worries, here's the next chapter! And by the way, **the post next week will be late**. I'm moving into college and I need to settle in and get everything ready for my first day of school. I don't know when Chapter Eight will be up, but I'll try to get it as soon as possible. Til then!

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

**Savior**

For the umpteenth time that morning, Zarbon felt the door behind him buckle as a piercing scream penetrated the steel. He ignored it, buffing his nails on his uniform and brushing some stray hairs from his eyes. Eventually, she would wear herself out.

After a few minutes of relative silence only broken by some half-hearted blows to the door, he pushed himself off the wall and punched in the code. The door slid open and he peered down at the blue-haired child. Her hands was bleeding from trying to escape, and she was whimpering to herself. "Are you finished?"

"Are you taking me to Vegeta?"

Zarbon pulled his lips back into a dismayed frown. Frieza's plan wasn't working. This girl was too strong-minded for her own good. It was time for the second route of action.

"Why would you want to see him?"

Bulma sat up, clutching her injured arm close to her body. Things seemed to be going her way. "Vegeta was the one who helped me."

"Did he now?" the humanoid asked, feigning interest. He eased himself into a sitting position across from her. "When did you meet him?"

"I found him outside my house. He was all beat up, but I gave him some food and he got better." Zarbon smiled slightly and nodded for her to continue, but inside, he was puzzled. This information was new to him. He and Frieza had surmised that she was purposely spared by the Saiyan as a means of rebellion, not that she saved him.

"Very interesting, Bulma. But tell me, where did you live before you met Vegeta?"

"I lived in Capsule Corporation in Satan City with my mom—" Her voice faltered suddenly, catching Zarbon off-guard.

"What's the matter?" he asked tenderly. She turned away from him, bowing her head, but replied in a muffled voice.

"I miss my mommy and daddy."

"What happened to them?"

"They left me."

"Did they—" Something suddenly occurred to him. Vegeta had been assigned to purge West City and its inhabitants. Had he never told this girl that he had killed her parents?

Frieza had been right; this was getting interesting indeed.

"I don't know where they are," he heard her sniff. "Vegeta told me they were gone." Zarbon, hiding his self-satisfaction, pulled her close to comfort her.

"I know what happened to them," he whispered as he patted her back.

* * *

"Vegeta?" Goku stirred in his sleep. "Vegeta, is that you?" 

"Yes. Shut up."

Wiping the sleep from his eyes, the young Saiyan sat up in bed and looked around. He saw his elder sitting on the floor, pulling his boots on. The sun cast awkward shadows against the wall, but the light barely gave off any warmth. Goku shivered but looked on with mild interest. "What time is it?"

"It's almost 1300, you lazy ass."

"Where ya goin'? Can I come?"

"None of your business. No."

The boy frowned and tried to argue again, but he was quickly silenced. Instead, he watched Vegeta stretch a little, pull on some gloves, and start for the door. "Wait, Vegeta," Goku said suddenly. "Where's Bulma?"

The Prince froze at the door, his hand resting on the frame. Finally, he looked over his shoulder and said, "I'm going to get her."

"You're going to get her?"

"What the hell did I just tell you?"

"I wanna come, too!"

"Go back to sleep. You're not coming." No matter how much the boy pleaded, Vegeta wouldn't budge. He left Goku all alone in the room with nothing to do but stare at the ceiling.

* * *

"Lord Frieza, one of your cadets is here to see you." 

Frieza rolled his eyes. "Get rid of him."

"I already tried, sir, but—" A loud explosion interrupted the scout's reply. Vegeta stepped in through a newly-made hole in the wall, wearing a look of contempt.

"Out of my way, damn it!" he shouted, pushing the man aside. He then turned to Lord Frieza, who was bemusedly watching him. He scoffed at the lackey before marching heatedly towards the throne. "Frieza, we need to talk."

"Ah, Vegeta, I've been expecting you," the alien interrupted, rising from his throne in a lazy manner. "I expect you want to know what happened to your precious baggage."

"I already know what happened. I came to ask for her back." Frieza paused to sip from his wine glass and Vegeta waited impatiently.

"I believe that she is content where she is," he said finally, placing his wine glass down delicately. The Prince stared as he continued, "The little girl actually asked to never see you again. I've granted her request, naturally. Who can resist her charm?"

"You take that back, _blarot compf placki_!" Vegeta shouted, balling his fists and charging. Frieza calmly flew forward and slapped him to the ground.

"Tut tut, Vegeta, you shouldn't say such horrible things when I have my translator in."

The Saiyan pushed himself off the floor, spitting out blood. "I don't care what you think," he bit out. Then he heard a collision, but for some reason, felt nothing. It was Frieza who was wiping a trickle of blood off his mouth.

"Who's there?" the alien cried out in anger. Vegeta felt a tug on his shirt and turned, only to find himself face to face with Goku.

"Are you okay, Vegeta?"

"I told you to stay in the room!"

"But I want to see Bulma."

"Quiet!" Frieza screamed, halting the argument between the two Saiyans. He took a calming breath before levitating to his throne. "If you're so convinced that the girl would rather go with you, why don't we let her decide? I'll page Zarbon and we'll settle this now." Vegeta nodded and rose, smirking to himself.

She would be back soon.

* * *

There was something wrong. Vegeta could tell as soon as Zarbon and Bulma walked in. Her eyes were watching the floor, and she stuck close behind a smirking Zarbon. Everything seemed to be frightening her; Vegeta could see her trembling from across the room. 

"Bulma," he said urgently, dashing towards her. The pitter-patter of feet behind him told him that Goku was following as well. For some reason, however, Bulma wasn't running back to them; in fact, she was beginning to turn away, but he grabbed her arms and crouched in front of her, Goku at his side. "Bulma, are you okay? What happened?" She bowed her head further, and he saw her tears glittering on the floor.

"Whazza matter, Bulma?" Goku asked worriedly, but it only made her cry more.

"Bulma, speak!" Vegeta pressed. She mumbled something incoherent back. "Louder! What's wrong with you?"

"Is it true?"

Alarmed, Vegeta's head snapped towards Zarbon. "What the hell did you do to her?" he growled, every muscle in his body tensing. He readied himself for an attack, but the response he got was more sickening than a blow to the stomach.

"I merely told her where her parents are."

The Prince's eyes widened, but he said nothing. He couldn't.

"Is it true?" Bulma asked again from behind him.

"What?" Goku asked, thoroughly confused. "What about Bulma's parents?"

"Oh, he doesn't know, either?" Zarbon laughed. "Oh, this is fantastic. Would you like to tell him?"

Vegeta only managed to stutter an infuriated, "You…."

"Alright, I'll tell him, then." The green alien turned to Goku and smirked. "Vegeta killed Bulma's parents."

Shocked, Goku shouted, "But, that's not right! Vegeta would never do something like that! He just wouldn't! Right, Vegeta?" When he looked at his elder, he faltered. Vegeta's hands were clenched in fists of rage and he was slowly advanced on Zarbon.

"Why did you tell her?" he said menacingly. "What gave you the right to tell her?"

"It's my civic duty." In an eruption of anger, Vegeta tackled Zarbon and pinned him to the ground, punching and shouting with every bit of strength he had in him as the alien below him struggled violently for freedom. Vegeta couldn't hear Bulma's screams; he couldn't feel Goku tugging him backwards. All he knew now was he had to make Zarbon pay.

"That's enough!" a voice boomed. The Prince was thrown off of Zarbon in an instant, landing with a thud a few yards away. He pulled himself up to his knees, wiping the trail of hot blood from his cheek. H'limke was standing between Vegeta and Zarbon.

"Garnet!" Bulma cried aloud. Everyone watched her throw herself at his feet, sobbing as she repeated his name. He bent down to pat her on the head before speaking sharply to Vegeta.

"What were you doing?" he scolded. "Think before acting." He then turned his attention to the girl at his feet. She was being comforted softly by Goku. Vegeta numbly watched H'limke and Goku hold her, trying to dry her tears. He had done this. What's more, he had become someone he hated. He had lied, he had used her for his own purposes.

He had become the bad guy.

"H'limke, how do you know my little pet?" Frieza interrupted with a steely glare.

"My Lord," he said, facing his superior, "Zarbon brought her to me to examine her earlier."

The alien raised his chin haughtily, as if he doubted that was the complete truth, but because Zarbon didn't argue, he continued his conversation with H'limke. Vegeta used this time to approach Bulma, crouching in front of her and stroking her hair.

"I didn't know they were your parents," he whispered. "I didn't know about you then."

"Why do you kill people?"

"It's my duty. I'm sorry."

Frieza suddenly laughed and exclaimed, "How touching!" He toasted the scene condescendingly with his wine glass. "Now who do you think she wants to stay with, Vegeta?" Instead of replying, he bowed his head and allowed the tears in his eyes to fall.

Frieza cleared his throat to make an announcement. "H'limke, the girl has already told me of her decision to stay with Zarbon. She does not wish to see Vegeta again. I want you to see that there is enough room for her in the Commander's quarters. Report back to me as soon as you are finished."

"Very well." H'limke bowed, his brow furrowed in a state of agitation. Zarbon smiled cheekily at Vegeta as he scooped Bulma into his arms. The three left through the main entrance, the Saiyans watching them wretchedly from a distance. Vegeta was about to turn on Frieza; however, it was Goku who stepped forward.

"Bulma's not going to stay there forever!" he shouted. "She knows Vegeta didn't do it on purpose!"

"Shut up, you bushy-tailed baboon! No one is talking to you!"

"I don't care! Bulma'll come back!" Goku stuck out his chin defiantly and stomped his foot. "I'll bring her back!" The boy suddenly yelped as a beam struck the ground next to his foot.

"One more word out of you and I'll be sure not to miss," Frieza declared icily. Goku scowled but chose not to reply. "Bulma will move into Zarbon's quarters, where she will not be allowed to see either of you until she has settled in. As for you—Guku, was it?—you will be transferred back to H'limke's care until further notice. Vegeta, you'll be allowed to stay in your quarters for one week, but after that, you are to leave for Linop-sei for a new mission."

"That's preposterous!" Vegeta exclaimed. "Linop-sei is four years away!"

"You will go, or else the girl will spend some quality time with the other soldiers." Once again, the Prince tensed up, but Goku acted first.

"You big meanie! I wanna go with Vegeta!"

"You're going to be trained for the future purging of Namek-sei, so shut up before I change my mind. Now get out of my sight. I've seen enough monkeys for one day." He swiveled his chair to look out the window while Vegeta and Goku were forcefully escorted outside by four guards.

Frieza smirked at his reflection in the mirror. That would keep the two Saiyans busy for awhile. Vegeta's spirit was almost broken, and that bratty youngster was a naive fool. The problem was making sure he believed in the right principles. He was still thinking of ways to change the younger boy's opinion when a guard walked in and saluted.

"My Lord, the doctor and the commander are here to see you."

"Tell the commander that he is not needed here. I wish to speak to the doctor personally."

"Very well." The guard left and came back moments later with H'limke.

"You wanted to see me, my Lord?" the doctor asked smoothly.

"Yes. It's about the younger monkey."

It was almost imperceptible, but H'limke looked somewhat relieved. "I've heard from the two boys already. They said that I was to take in Goku. I was also told that he was to be trained—"

"All that is true, but I asked you to come in here for something else. I want to know why the brat struck me today." H'limke inhaled sharply, but Frieza continued, "It was your job to make him a loyal soldier, yet he does this. Explain yourself."

"I…I don't know what to say, my Lord. I taught him about the empire's history and your achie—"

"Well, it's beside the point. While Vegeta is gone, fix your mistake. That is all."

Slowly, the doctor bowed. "Yes, Lord Frieza."


	8. Crash

Okay, first of all, I'm extremely sorry for the wait. I settled into college better than I anticipated... and now I have almost no free time to write. It kinda sucks, but at the same time, I'm still happy, so that's good. I'm planning on writing over Thanksgiving break, so hopefully I'll be able to crank out some new stuff. In any case, thanks for the reviews and sticking with me. I hope you like the changes in this chapter, because a lot happens.

**

* * *

**

**Chapter Eight**

**Crash**

_Five years later_

The image was as bleak as the rest—charred bodies, rotting flesh, moans from the dying. He could almost smell their prayers, but he left them behind for new prey.

It was winter again, and the snow fell upon the empty tree limbs, happy to find company on the desolate landscape. The three moons in the sky, all at different positions, cast awkward shadows on the path. The planet was nearly empty. Everything was so cold.

Vegeta felt it inside him, growing with every step—an icy chill of solitude and apathy. He stalked through the silent forest, his eyes roving through the brush for any traces of survivors. Although the planet was large, he had been sent to conquer it alone due to the primitive inhabitants. After one year, he had almost completed the task. Only one more clan to go.

Behind him, a bird cried out for a companion. He flinched at the noise, his heart raced, he searched wildly, but there was no one nearby. Calming himself, Vegeta pressed further down the path.

A tree branch scratched at his face and he silently swept it away, trying to keep his breathing imperceptible. Even the slightest misstep could cost him another month. That was one thing about the Linops—they certainly knew how to hide. Another branch tore at his neck and snagged a small chain, bringing the Saiyan to a halt. Solemnly, he retraced his steps to free himself and set the necklace back neatly on his chest. He wanted to keep it in tact; it was the only tie he had to sanity. Vegeta could feel its coolness against his skin, and its constant presence reminded him that he came from somewhere, that he wasn't alone.

There was a broken tree limb in front of him, sap oozing out of the tear. The rip was fresh. He was getting close. Excitement increased his heart rate, his senses heightened even further—the hunt would end soon.

Absentmindedly, his hand shot up to feel the chain. He needed to calm down and do his job so he could go back. It didn't just remind him of his place, it also reminded him of something he had left behind.

_"Vegeta, Vegeta, wait for me!" a child's voice called out. Apathetically, the prince glanced over his shoulder to see Goku tromping after him. "I want to come, too!"_

_"Stay here. You're not strong enough to go purging yet."_

_"Aw, but I wanna!" Suddenly, H'limke tramped around a corner, heaving air into his lungs as he doubled over next to Goku._

_"Don't run so fast," he wheezed in between breaths. The young Saiyan looked ashamed, but not for long._

_"Hey, Vegeta, I have something for you!" he said proudly, holding up a silver chain. "It's a necklace! Isn't it cool?" The prince rolled his eyes and tossed a spare training suit in the space pod, completely ignoring the younger boy. It didn't go unnoticed. "Bulma and I were—"_

_"What? You've seen her?" Vegeta asked suddenly, startling the poor boy._

_He managed a meek, "Yesterday."_

_"Is she…is she alright?"_

_"Um, yeah, she said she was okay. She wanted me to say bye for her and to give you this." Again, he held the necklace out to Vegeta. The Saiyan Prince saw then that it was the necklace Bulma had been wearing the day he met her._

_"Get it away from me."_

_"You should have it!" Goku shouted back in frustration. "I'm giving it to you!"_

_"I said I don't want it. Leave me alone." Goku seemed to be on the verge of tears and H'limke had to intervene._

_"Take the necklace, Vegeta. They want you to have something to remember them by."_

_He paused a moment, then grumbled, "Fine." Hesitantly, he took the necklace and slid it over his head._

_"Come back soon, okay Vegeta?" Tears began welling in Goku's eyes. The older Saiyan nodded curtly and climbed into the space pod, settling in its cramped interior. The door closed with a metallic thud and seconds later, he found himself surrounded by nothingness._

_At this time, the prince took a really good look at the chain around his neck. It was some sort of grayish metal made with tight links. __Sighing, he leaned back and let sleep overcome him. It was a four-year trip to Linop-sei, he thought tranquilly, so he would have time to think it over. There was something about this necklace that was important. It was just a question of what._

Even though that was six years ago, the prince could remember it well. Out here, his mind was clearer. He noticed things about the past that he never saw before. How had Zarbon figured out that he killed her parents? Why had Goku been able to hit Frieza? What did the necklace mean? Every night, he pondered these questions while sleep eluded him.

Vegeta froze and sniffed the air. The clan was close now; he could smell it. Slowly, he followed the scent to where it was the strongest, finding himself at the mouth of a cave. He entered cautiously, listening for echoes of voices or breathing, and could barely perceive a whisper.

"Come out," he said, his voice ragged. Some harsh-sounding words were spoken in return. He fired a ki blast towards the sound and took a step back as it exploded. Stalactites fell in chunks from the ceiling, collapsing on the screaming victims. Backing away further, Vegeta accidentally inhaled dust and started to wheeze as the last of the rocks clattered on top of the pile. It was done.

The moon was low enough to shine through the cave entrance, casting a faint blue light on the rubble. He noticed a solitary hand poking through the rocks. By the looks of it, the appendage belonged to a child, no older than eleven.

Vegeta remembered today was his own birthday. He was seventeen now. And he didn't care.

* * *

"Very good, Bulma," Zarbon approved, checking the small, pill-shaped container she had just handed him. "It's a perfect replica of your father's work."

"Yeah, except mine's louder. I can't figure out how he fixed that."

"I'm sure you'll think of something." The humanoid set aside the capsule and focused on the twelve-year-old in front of him. Although Bulma was certainly blossoming, she had not yet reached womanhood. Soon enough, however, she would be worth a substantial amount of money. The idea made Zarbon's palms itch, but he ignored the feeling and said, "Tomorrow's your thirteenth birthday, isn't it?"

"I know!" she giggled excitedly. "Lord Frieza already promised me a surprise."

"I wish I could be there as well," he admitted blandly. Her face immediately fell.

"Oh no! Where are you going to be?"

"I'm afraid that I have to send off the troops going to Namek. You know, give a speech and all that. Not as interesting as a birthday party, but that's the price of a high rank."

"That's not fair!" she lamented, leaning forward eagerly. "You have to be at my birthday party. I'll talk to Lord Frieza myself if I have to."

His eyes flickered with humor. "I don't think that would make him change his mind," he chuckled lightly. "Sending off troops is important."

"Well, fine, but now you have to take me to lunch then." The look on her face told Zarbon that if he didn't comply, he'd end up face down on the ground.

"I believe I have time now, sweetie. It's a bit late for lunch, but let's head down and see if the chef can fix you up something nice." With a sense of relief, he pushed himself up from his desk and together he and Bulma walked down the hallway.

The cafeteria, when they entered, was in complete disarray. A few workers were running around yelling orders to clean up. All over the floor were heaps of trash scattered around from lunches earlier that day. Ironically enough, the only place there wasn't garbage was in the garbage cans. With a quick eye, Zarbon could immediately pin the blame on one person.

"Goku, front and center!" he called out, gritting his teeth slightly. From an unusually large pile of garbage, a pointy-haired head popped out and grinned sheepishly.

"Hi, Commander," he greeted as he climbed out of the refuse. "Hi, Bulma. Watcha doin'?"

"Trying not to vomit," Zarbon commented blandly, ignoring the fact that he was not greeted with a salute. "Why are all the bags of garbage open and lying on the floor of the cafeteria?"

"I was looking for something."

"And what, perchance, were you looking for?" Goku paused a moment, wrinkling his nose in thought. After a few beats, it became apparent that he didn't understand the question. Zarbon interjected, "What was in the garbage that you needed, Goku?"

"Oh…. Well, one of the captains threw away this apple, so I was trying to find it so I could—"

"So you could eat it." Zarbon finished monotonously. It wasn't a question.

"Well, yeah. I mean, it was this whole big apple and—"

"That's enough," the humanoid interrupted. Goku immediately fell silent. "Your job, as I've explained to you quite a few times now, is simply to make sure that all the garbage makes it into the nearest trash receptacle. How is it that a task so simple escapes you on a weekly basis?" Goku didn't quite know how to answer, so he made a shrugging motion. Zarbon sighed once again before saying, "You will spend the rest of today cleaning up this mess. Dismissed."

"Aw, but Commander! I was supposed to meet Mister Garnet for class today!"

"I guess it will have to wait. I said dismissed." With tears in his eyes, Goku tragically moved to the biggest pile of trash and began to toss pieces into the nearest can. Bulma was watching him silently until Zarbon nudged her.

"Come on," he was saying, "let's ask Lord Frieza if there's something else you can eat. It's your birthday soon, after all."

She nodded and followed him outside. They walked in silence, except for Zarbon's casual insults about Goku's heritage. Bulma didn't reply except for the occasional smile.

For a long time now, she had seen the abuse Goku went through. Although Zarbon was one of her friends, so was Goku, and it pained her to see him disappointed. In spite of this conflict, Bulma didn't dare speak to Zarbon about it. She knew that he would just reply with a lengthy speech comparing Goku to Vegeta, the man who slaughtered her family.

There was something she could feel, though—something deep down inside of her—that told her Zarbon was wrong. She swallowed it and strode confidently beside him towards Lord Frieza's chambers.


	9. Rescue

**Chapter Nine**

**Rescue**

__

Four years later

"This is ship number fifteen-zero-ten. I'm coming in for a landing, over."

"This is Base Blue, launch pad number thirteen is open, over."

"Roger that, switching on automatic landing gear. Arrival approximately fifteen seconds. Over and out." Vegeta sat back in his seat and stretched off four years of sleep. Already, he was itching for a fight.

The landing went by as quickly as it usually did, and the prince found himself unpacking his bags from the ship before he realized he was home. Well, as close to home as he would ever get. There were times on that godforsaken planet where he actually missed his steel-framed bed and barren bunk.

"Vegeta? Is that you?" a voice said from behind him. Without turning around, Vegeta snapped, "Who else has a tail and a head of hair like this?"

The last thing the Saiyan expected, he got. The speaker grabbed him into some sort of strangle-hold and squeezed with all his might. Vegeta repelled immediately, kicking and struggling for freedom. The attacker fell on his back while the prince landed in a crouching position, breathing heavily from the adrenalin rush.

"Woah, there!" the man on the ground laughed. "You really haven't changed, huh? I just wanted to give you a hug!"

"What?"

"Vegeta, don't you recognize me?" The man sat up and gave him a goofy grin. "It's Goku!" Dumbfounded, Vegeta rocked back on his heels and deepened his frown.

"Goku? I thought you were on Namek."

The boy stood and brushed off the back of his pants. "Nope. Mister Garnet decided to keep me back. Said I wasn't ready to fight." He offered his hand to his old friend, but it was ignored as Vegeta turned back to his bags. Goku paused for a moment, then came around into Vegeta's line of vision.

"So, how did things go?"

Vegeta grunted.

"That's good." Goku clasped his wrists behind his back and began to whistle slightly. The prince grimaced, but otherwise managed to ignore him. As he finished packing up his bag, he abruptly turned to leave.

"H-hey, wait for me!" the younger boy called out. Vegeta, however, did not; he walked just as purposefully as ever, and Goku was forced to sprint in order to catch up. "I don't have anything to do until fourteen hundred hours. Can I tag along?"

"No."

"Aw, come on," Goku pouted. "Please?"

Vegeta's eyes narrowed as a growl emitted from his throat. "I have things to do, and none of them concern you."

"I don't mind."

"I don't care if you don't mind," the prince pressed. "I need to do these things on my own."

There was something in the way he said those words that made Goku frown pensively. He finally allowed, "Okay, Vegeta. I'll catch you later."

The only reply was a humph, and the young man slowly disappeared into the crowd. Vegeta continued to walk down the corridor, more determined than ever to finish. He easily ignored the stares and questions from the other soldiers. Doubtless his tattered and bloody clothing had something to do with it, but he also had a sneaking suspicion some rumors had started while he was away. He tried to relax as he entered the throne room.

"I'm here to see Lord Frieza," he said shortly to the guard. He was silently led into the end of a long hallway where Frieza sat, lazily rotating his wine glass so the scent could creep into his nostrils. Vegeta wrinkled his nose but bowed obediently.

"At ease, Prince Vegeta. What of Linop-sei?"

"Demolished. The inhabitants are all gone and it is now a part of your empire."

"Very good. You may leave now." The alien's attention went back to his wine glass, but Vegeta didn't budge. "Hm? You have more to say?"

"Just a question, Lord Frieza." Since he wasn't interrupted, Vegeta continued. "The little girl that you found nine years ago—is she still here?"

Allowing a small smirk, Frieza nodded. "She is still with Zarbon; however, she is getting to the point where she could make the empire a lot of money. Not only is she a stunning creature, but her level of intellect simply astounds me. Even everyday objects have been modified around here."

"May I speak to her?"

"If she'll allow it. Now, run along. I have work to attend to." Hiding his distaste, Vegeta bowed and left Frieza to his business. He would unpack, first, then try and find Bulma.

Caught in his thoughts, he wasn't watching his steps through the hallways. He accidentally collided with a small servant, sending her sailing to the ground as he stalked by.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" the slave spat after him. Disgusted and shocked, Vegeta turned to teach her a lesson, but all his words froze when he saw the servant's face.

"Bulma?"

She certainly looked like Bulma, even underneath all that material that the common servant wore. Her hair was the exact same color he remembered, as were her eyes. Obviously, she had grown some—she was almost as tall as he was—but it couldn't have been anyone else. His memories of her burst fourth and flooded his mind; he half expected her to hug him around the middle and say hello. The harsh words she had spoken earlier came back to mind, though, and he restrained himself from saying too much.

"Bulma," he said again, turning around fully to face her, "it's been a long time."

"Do I know you?" she asked offhandedly, pushing herself off the ground with a grunt. Vegeta's brow furrowed into a frown. Had she forgotten so soon? Or maybe it was his ragged appearance that threw her. The last time she had seen him, he had been only a child, after all.

"It's me. Vegeta."

It was obvious that she knew the name. Vegeta watched her face change from recognition to utter resentment in a matter of seconds. "You… what made you think I'd want to talk to you?"

"What?"

"You killed my family, not to mention my entire race! And now you're standing here expecting me to be happy to see you?!"

Vegeta growled. He didn't expect such a welcome. He also didn't expect her to have changed this much. "You need to listen," he began.

"No, you listen here, you… you monkey-freak—"

"Monkey-freak?"

"—you stay the hell away from me, or I'll get Zarbon to kick your sorry ass to kingdom come."

"Like he could," he shot back with a snort.

"He could and would. He'll do whatever I ask him to." Lifting her chin in triumph, Bulma stared at him with hatred burning in her crystal eyes. "Besides, a heartless bastard like you deserves to die." Vegeta's jaw clenched involuntarily, but he couldn't find the right words to respond. What had happened to the girl that curled up beside him at night?

She sensed his hesitation and smirked at him with no trace of kindness. "So, if your royal-ness will excuse me, I have work to do."

He watched her disappear before swearing to himself. "Damn it." He pounded the wall in frustration. "Idiot." She wasn't the same person, he told himself, now that she had been with Zarbon and Frieza for so long. He had changed too, though—after being alone for nine years straight, he had become even more isolated, more independent.

But then why did her words feel so abrasive? Why couldn't he talk back? Why did he feel so….

Vegeta struck the wall once more and stalked back towards his room, dizzy from the anger burning behind his eyes. He couldn't fathom her hatred after all that he had done for her, all that he had sacrificed, even if he had lied to her. He willed his sentiments away, however, and made his way to his room.

His quarters were empty when he got back. After dropping his bag on the couch, Vegeta slowly washed the filth of nine years away and wandered to his bunk, seating himself on its hard surface. Now that he was back, life would return to the way it was—when he was twelve and every day concerned his own survival, and his alone.

Even as these thoughts ran through his mind, his hand groped for the necklace that hung across his chest. He clutched it tightly, trying to bring back the few memories of when he had been happy—with her. Nine years, already gone. He had deluded himself into believing that the gift of the necklace was in some way her forgiveness. It had been his only wish, his only salvation.

But he had been wrong.

Deftly, he snapped the chain off his neck and tossed it to the floor with a disgusted snort. As of now, if she wanted him to be a cold-hearted killer, that was what he would become. Vegeta then lay down and tried to sleep.

* * *

Bulma tapped the screwdriver edge on her knee unconsciously, weighing her next move in her mind. The project she was currently working on was two years in the making—a small spaceship with capsule capabilities complete with two rooms, a kitchen, and a new section that had been bugging her for the past thirteen and a half months: a gravity chamber.

It had started when she came across a journal that her dad had left her. Inside, there were scribbles of theories and postulations so ground-breaking that they made her mind whirl, but the most interesting was the theory that gravity could be manufactured by rapid acceleration of matter. The notes on this were sketchy, however, and some pages had obviously been misplaced. According to a certain passage, the entire formula was inscribed on a family heirloom somewhere, but she had yet to come across it.

Regardless, Bulma had tried to build a small chamber on the ship with varying results. The last attempt had almost produced two times normal gravity, but the wiring had fried before it was reached.

Suddenly, as if repulsed, she threw the screwdriver down and stormed to her desk. "Why is this so hard?" she growled to herself, rifling through pages of her late father's journal. "What could I be doing wrong?" She stopped, as if the journal pages would respond, but her thoughts were still jumbled. Bulma was concentrating so hard, she didn't hear the door behind her slide open.

"Ah, there you are," Zarbon's voice sighed. "Lord Frieza wishes to speak to you about your progress."

Bulma turned around and glared, obviously angered. "He can wait. Tell him I'll see him later."

"He wants to see you now, Bulma. You haven't made any progress in the last nine months, and the progress you made before that was minimal."

"Don't remind me!" she groaned dramatically, leaning back in her chair to get a better look at him. "Believe me, I've been counting, too. Do you think this is easy?"

"I'm sure it isn't," Zarbon complied, "but Lord Frieza still demanded to see you."

Sighing noisily, Bulma rose with a great effort. "Fine, but I'm only giving him the same speech that I've given the last four times." She stalked to the door and opened it, but she froze at the threshold, as Goku's smiling face impeded her destination.

"Bulma, there you are! I've been looking everywhere for you!"

Casting an embarrassed glance behind her, she said, "Goku, I don't have time. Go away." Zarbon sniffed disdainfully behind her.

"But—"

"Later." She shoved him backwards and walked past him, her eyes cast downwards. She could feel Goku's eyes on her back, but she had no time to turn, as Zarbon was already by her side.

"Hurry. Lord Frieza awaits." He rapidly led her down the halls until they came upon the throne room doors, where a guard announced their arrival. Frieza already looked annoyed at Bulma's tardiness. His tail swished behind him impatiently, and the guard cringed whenever it cracked the air.

"Report," Frieza snapped, ignoring all formalities.

Bulma bowed slightly and began. "I've spent the last month trying to fix the glitch, and I almost have it figured out. The last time I tested the gravity chamber, it nearly reached two times gravity."

"Nearly?" he repeated.

"That's what I said."

"So, in other words, you've made no progress."

Bulma glowered. "I've been doing my best here, but without the entire theorem, I can only do so much."

"I've told you to find it yourself," he barked. "What's holding you back?"

"All the research I've done has been inconclusive. It took my father decades to come up with it; you can't expect me to finish it in a couple of years." The two locked eyes, and Bulma swelled with defiance. "I need to find that heirloom, Lord Frieza."

For a moment, the alien was silent, obviously considering Bulma's words carefully. When he finally answered, his voice was once again smooth. "Fine. I will hold off the next mission for another month. If you have not found the heirloom and finished the gravity chamber within that time, you will be condemned to slave work for me."

Bulma smirked. "Deal."

"I anticipate good news during your next report. Dismissed." Giving a curt bow, Bulma proudly marched out of the throne room closely followed by a frowning Zarbon.

"What makes you think you can finish it in a month?" he asked as she strode down the hall. "It's been over a year now and you've barely gotten anywhere."

"It's just a hunch I have," she told him carelessly.

"A hunch won't keep you out of slave work. Lord Frieza will keep his word."

"And I'll keep mine," she declared, wheeling around to face him. "I'll get that heirloom by the end of this week, you'll see."

* * *

Goku sighed as he arrived at his door, disinterestedly pounding in the entry code. Bulma was his friend. She had been the only person he could speak to freely besides Garnet. They played together, ate together, they did everything together.

That is, when no one else was around.

His mouth formed a grim line as he forced that thought out of his mind. Bulma wasn't like that. She wasn't the type of person to care about those kinds of things.

But then why did she shirk him when Zarbon was around? Why didn't she ever try to help him when he was being punished for his heritage? Goku didn't understand how she could completely change from one moment to the next. He always helped her, but when had she ever helped him?

"That's enough," he whispered to himself, gently rapping his forehead with a fist. Bulma was his friend, he decided, no matter what she did to him. No matter what.

At that moment, Goku noticed Vegeta's duffle lying on the couch. "Vegeta, are you here?" he called out, tromping towards the bunks. "Vegeta?" When he opened the door, he saw his roommate splayed across the far bed, frowning even in his sleep. Goku slapped a hand over his mouth, scared that his shouting before might have disturbed the prince.

He soon loosened up, realizing that Vegeta was still asleep, and a sigh escaped his lips. "That was close," he told himself. A sparkle of reflected light caught his eye, and Goku turned his attention to the floor, where a tarnished silver chain was carelessly discarded. "What's this?" Goku gingerly picked the chain up and examined it closely. It seemed to be a normal chain, dulled and scratched from age, but nice enough. "Is it Vegeta's?" he asked himself, glancing at his reposing roommate. He couldn't imagine the prince ever wearing a piece of jewelry, but it certainly wasn't his own.

"Well, if it is Vegeta's," he thought, "it probably hasn't been cleaned since he left for that mission." He smiled to himself and pocketed the chain. "I should ask Bulma to clean it for him. It could be a small welcome back present for him." This idea struck him as a good one, and he quietly left the room to find his friend.

* * *

I can't say sorry enough!! I'm finishing up my first year of college, and I found almost no time to work on fanfiction, unfortunately. This summer, I'm looking forward to get a lot done. I hope I can make it up to you guys - I've got a lot of stories I've been thinking about listed on the front page. I'll put up a poll to see which story you guys'd like to see written next. Thanks for sticking with me, and I look forward to hearing from all of you!


	10. Rinse

**Chapter Ten**

**Rinse**

Bulma groaned when she heard a fist pound on her door. "I'm busy!" she shouted, leaning further over her bench. The pounding still continued, though, and she reluctantly tore herself from her work to open the door.

It was Goku.

"Bulma, is it alright for me to come in?" he asked, smiling eagerly. She nodded and grudgingly stepped back so he could enter, quietly saying, "What are you doing here?"

"I was going to ask you for a favor." He found a seat among wires and boxes while she closed the door and returned to her desk, turning her chair to face him.

"What do you need?"

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the silver chain he had found in his quarters. "This necklace belongs to a friend of mine, and I wanted to get it cleaned for him. Could you help me?"

She sighed and gazed wistfully at her work. "Goku, I need to work on this gravity chamber. It's driving me crazy; I can't even find that heirloom and I think I'll have to discover the theorem all over again."

"But Bulma, this'll only take five minutes! And it's for a friend. I know it would mean a lot to him."

Once again, she glanced back at her work, but this time she hesitantly accepted the necklace. "I'll try and clean it, then you can come get it later."

"Sure," he said gladly, rising from his make-shift chair. "I'll be back soon!"

"You'd better be," she grumbled, taking the chain to her work bench. She heard him leave behind her as she settled down to get Goku's project out of the way.

The chain was dirty—very dirty, she noted, picking off chips of dirt caked onto the metal. She opened her drawer and rooted around for her polishing cloth that she kept around to clean finished projects, and she quickly ran the chain over the cloth, vigorously polishing some of the tougher spots. Most of the dirt came off easily, and the silver shone dully from her hand, but there were still tiny flakes of dirt coating the surface. She tried to run the chain through again, but only to find the same results.

"What the hell is wrong with this thing?" she muttered to herself. "Is this even dirt?" She tried to examine it more closely, but the delicate links were far too small for her eyes. Frustrated, she dug into her drawer and emerged with a magnifying glass and a file. She was planning on rebuffing the metal to a new sheen—and if that didn't work, she could always make a new one.

Grasping the chain in one hand, she lifted the magnifying glass to examine it more closely. If the thin lines of filth weren't on the chain, it would've looked absolutely fine, but all these scratches of brown—

Bulma frowned. "Wait a second… this looks like writing…." She refocused the magnifying glass and tried to read it, but she soon noticed that the writing wasn't letters of Standard—it was math symbols.

She gasped and hastily read some of the code.

It was a theorem.

Her father's theorem.

For a moment, she thought she was seeing things. She slapped her cheeks softly and rubbed her eyes, but when she picked up the necklace and magnifying glass again, it was still there, as clear as before.

It finally clicked that she had found the missing theorem, and Bulma scrambled for a pad of paper and a pencil to take notes.

Every bit was there: the things she had found, the ideas that she toyed with, the means she never could've dreamed of. She filled out pages and pages of notes before she heard the door buzz open behind her. "Goku, where did you find—" But her words froze in her mouth as she saw that her friend was not alone. Goku grinned widely at her.

"Surprise! You remember this guy, don't you?" he asked playfully, patting the shorter boy on the shoulder with a heavy hand.

Bulma nodded, then quietly pronounced, "Vegeta." Her eyes narrowed as she said it.

Vegeta's face, in turn, was a furious version of shock. "Goku," he hissed at the boy, his glare never leaving Bulma, "you said we were going to the new training facilities."

"I wanted this to be a surprise," Goku laughed, scratching the back of his head bashfully. "You know, a welcome home party. I even had Bulma clean your necklace for you."

"What necklace?" Vegeta demanded at the same time Bulma asked, "This is his?" There was a beat of silence as the two glared pointedly at each other. Goku's smile faltered. He looked between his two friends with childish concern. "What's wrong? You guys want to have the party later?"

"Or never," the prince added lowly. His tail lashed behind him.

"Goku, could you excuse us?" Bulma suddenly asked. "Vegeta and I need to talk."

"But what about the—"

"Now, Goku!" Meekly, the boy backed out of the room and allowed the door to shut him out.

There was a brief space of time where Bulma and Vegeta stared, considering each other with obvious spite and anger. She finally broke the silence by harshly saying, "I thought I told you to stay away from me."

"I didn't know I would end up with you, or else I wouldn't have come," Vegeta answered callously, although truthfully. "I was going to train when Goku brought me here."

Bulma nodded in acceptance, then she held the necklace aloft in her hand, letting it dangle from her fingers so he could see what it was. "This is yours, right?"

Immediately, his jaw slackened in his surprise. It took him a moment to find his voice. "How… how did you get that?"

"Goku. But the real question is how did _you_ get it?"

"What do you care?"

"This belongs to _me_. Did you steal it or something?"

Vegeta snarled at her and crossed his arms contemptuously. "Of course not. Why would I steal something from a little girl?"

"You stole a family from a little girl," she shot back, "so a necklace shouldn't make too much of a difference to you, huh? I thought it was all the same to soulless monkey, anyways. Or does the Saiyan prince suddenly have a heart?" Bulma sneered the last sentence with scorn, causing him to grit his teeth.

"How dare you? Just because you _believe_ I'm some kind of a cold-blooded murderer doesn't make it fact."

"But you did kill my parents. Or are you denying that?" He quickly opened his mouth to retort, but the words on his lips died. After a pause, she spat, "That's what I thought."

"You idiot!" he suddenly yelled, surprising them both. "I had no choice in the matter!"

"But you had a choice with me?" she screeched back. "I don't see the god damned difference between one person and another! You didn't have to kill anyone!"

"If there's no difference between people, what's the difference between you and me?"

Her chest was heaving, and her eyes sparked with passion. "I said between _people_. You aren't a person, you're a monster—a heartless, soulless monster who just kills," her voice choked on emotion, and she turned away so he couldn't see her frustrated tears. "I hate you," she whispered, and the room fell into silence.

The Saiyan prince, however, was almost deafened by the roar of his thoughts. How could this have happened? Where did he go wrong? He had only wanted to help, to save her from death… and now he was being repaid with this… this ache. In that moment, he actually believed he hated her back—but he realized it wasn't Bulma he hated. It was this stranger standing before him, this woman whom he knew nothing about. It was her he hated. His frustration finally consumed him, and he spat, "I wish I had left you for dead. Then maybe both of our lives would've been easier."

Her eyes snapped up, and she managed to glower at him through her tears. "You should've," she declared, matching the harshness in his voice. "I'd rather be dead than be here with you." He growled lowly at the derision, and their eyes locked, yet all of the rage Vegeta felt couldn't conceal the torment in his eyes from her, and he felt her leer soften, if only in the slightest bit. They were frozen, waiting for the other to back down first.

It took a few moments of silence, but Bulma was the first to break free, turning to stare at her desk. "Vegeta," she whispered, "I think you should go. Please don't try to see me again." There was a note in her voice that bordered on begging, as if this were the only solution.

His throat tightened painfully, but he managed to coolly state, "We are in agreement, then." That being said, Vegeta left without another word, the door sliding quietly shut behind him.

Bulma immediately felt drained, and she allowed herself to collapse into her lab chair, breathing heavily. She lifted a hand to brush her hair back and was surprised to find that she was in a cold sweat. A sudden anger overtook her. How could he do this to her? How could he make her feel so flustered just by looking at her like that? She had seen the glint in his eyes—it wasn't cruelty or malice, but it was something sad, pitiable. It almost looked like remorse.

But that was impossible. Vegeta was the man who had killed her entire family, her entire hometown without regret. How could he feel such pain over one girl?

Inwardly, Bulma groaned and forced herself back to work. She had just found the missing heirloom, the missing key, and she'd be damned if she'd let anyone distract her from her goal.

Yet her hands still shook as she lifted the pencil. She heard the door open again and wheeled from surprise.

"Don't worry, it's only me," Zarbon laughed, striding beside her. "Scared it would be someone else?"

Bulma laughed along with him, but it was forced and harsh. Zarbon looked at her oddly. "Is there something bothering you?"

She shook her head and bowed it over her desk.

"Don't lie, I've taken care of you for nine years now. Are you ill? What's wrong?" Zarbon lifted her chin to peer into her eyes, and he was surprised to find streaks of tears running down her face.

"Nothing's wrong," she breathed, shaking his hand away and turning to her work. "I'm fine. I was just… I've just been working hard on this project. I must be tired."

"But you're crying. What happened?"

"I told you, it's nothing important. Maybe the dust." Her mind scrambled for a distraction, and the necklace immediately presented itself. "But hey, you'll never guess what I found."

* * *

Goku started when the door slid open. Vegeta stormed out immediately afterwards, marching towards his quarters without a backwards glance. The younger Saiyan scrambled to his feet. "Vegeta! Hey, wait up!"

The prince didn't stop when he heard his name being called. Earlier, he had promised himself he wouldn't lose his head if he met her again, but he did anyways, and now he was perturbed that he said so much about something so stupid.

"Come on, Vegeta!"

"What is it?" he grunted, although he didn't stop walking. Goku caught up on his own accord and asked, "What happened? Are we going to have the party another time?"

"No, we're not going to have a party," the prince sneered, doubling his pace. "I'm going to train."

"Great! I'll come with."

At his words, Vegeta stopped dead and wheeled to stare him down. "I'm going alone," he pronounced through clenched teeth. "Go back to the room or go bother that bitch in her lab. Just leave me be."

"But Vegeta—"

"I said leave!" Goku paled, and the prince took that as his cue to leave, shouting over his shoulder, "And don't you dare follow me!"

His jaw set, the young boy watched Vegeta march away, wishing that he could understand what was happening. He had been too young, though, and he couldn't quite recall—

But then there was another he could ask.

* * *

"It shouldn't take too long now that I have everything I need," Bulma was saying. "Maximum a week."

"That's fantastic news." Zarbon smiled pleasantly at her, ruffling her hair. "Lord Frieza will be eager to get an entire fleet set up, and I'm sure you'll be rewarded."

"With what? An extra ration?" They both began to laugh, hers energetically bright, his pleasantly civilized. The door opened before they had regained control, and Bulma, still laughing, allowed her eyes to drift to the doorway, where they met Goku's grim face. Her smile drifted away. "Goku?" she asked, and her voice halted Zarbon's chuckle. He, too, turned to stare at the boy framed in the doorway, but his gaze was menacing, spiteful.

"Bulma," Goku pronounced stonily, whether as a greeting or not, she couldn't tell. "Are you feeling better?"

"Uh, yeah." She flushed when she felt Zarbon's gaze turn to her. "Can I talk to you later? Zarbon and I were just—"

"I need to talk to you about Vegeta," he interrupted.

"Goku, no," she said, flushing, while Zarbon snapped, "He's back?"

"This can't wait, Bulma." Goku's voice held a pleading note, and his cold expression softened into that of a younger child for a brief moment. "Why are you two acting so different?"

"Later," she pressed. "Zarbon and I were talking."

"No, it's fine, I'll leave," the alien sighed, pulling his lips into a tight smile as he turned back to her. "I just remembered someone I need to see right now."

"Oh," Bulma said, obviously surprised. "You're sure?"

"Certain."

She frowned slightly, but nodded. "Well, see you later, then."

"Right." He glared at the Saiyan one last time before his quiet steps carried him from the room. Goku silently stepped out of his way, leaning on a nearby lab table. He waited for the door to close before he turned back to Bulma.

"Can you tell me what's wrong?" he begged. But, unfeelingly, she turned back to her work and began to transcribe the theorem. "Bulma, please!"

"No, there's nothing wrong."

He desperately hurried to her desk. "I can't remember everything that happened back then, and now I feel like I missed something, something big. I don't understand—you two were friends, I thought, but you both act like this and… Bulma, I don't know what to think! Will you please listen!" He was breathing heavily from this outburst, and he clenched her desk so hard, he was crumpling the metal in his hand.

She stared at the work before her, the pencil unmoving. Suddenly, Bulma sighed and shoved her work away. "I am listening," she whispered.

* * *

Yes, another day, another chapter. I just got out of school yesterday, and although I'm working practically full-time this summer, I think I'll be spending a lot of time finishing this story, as well as working on the next.

Speaking of which, there's a poll on my profile page about which story people would like to see next from me. Please vote! It would mean the world to me!


	11. Encounter

**Chapter Eleven**

**Encounter**

"Thank you," Goku exhaled, and he smiled at her gratefully. "I want to know what happened when you and Vegeta met earlier today."

"How do you know we met earlier?" she asked automatically. He sheepishly shrugged, muttering, "Well, I was just outside when you were talking…." Then he motioned to his ears, and Bulma blinked at him.

"You mean you listened in?" she asked rhetorically. He chuckled, rubbing the back of his head bashfully. "Just bits and pieces," he admitted, "but I figured out that you had seen each other recently 'cause you said that you told him to stay away. After that, I tried not to hear too much."

"Thanks," Bulma said dryly.

"But what happened when you met?" he asked, his eagerness renewed.

"Exactly what you heard. I told him to stay away."

"That's all?" Goku blinked. "But why would you ask him to stay away? He's your friend."

"No he isn't," she replied sternly. "And I don't like you talking to him, either."

Goku's expression was wholly innocent. "Why?"

"He… he's the one who killed my parents."

"What?"

Then Goku remembered everything. That day so long ago… he had been so young….

"Zarbon told me the story," he heard Bulma say, but he was lost in thought.

"_H-he killed her parents! He did it, Mr. Garnet! I cou-could tell!"_

"_He did. You don't know the entire story, and you're too young to know—but Vegeta had to do what he did. You are not allowed to hold this against him."_

"_I-I'm not? But… but why, Mr. Garnet? You said it's not right to do that."_

"_I know I did. Vegeta's story is different. Trust me, and trust him."_

"He told me the truth. I mean, after Vegeta left for Linop-sei, I felt a bit sad that he was gone… but Zarbon had explained the truth to me. Vegeta's a monster."

"No, Bulma," Goku suddenly interrupted. "Vegeta's good, I know it."

She grimaced and looked away, trying to squelch the sickness and horror she felt. "How could you say that to me? He killed my parents, Goku."

"I know, Bulma, but he didn't know who they were."

Bulma suddenly felt murderous as she glared at her friend. "Does that make it alright? Is everything all better now?" In her new fury, she rose and stepped away. "I hate him! Why is that so hard for you to understand?"

Goku, too, was growing more frustrated. "How can you hate him if you haven't heard his side? There's a reason for this, there is!"

"A reason?" she cried out, whirling. "Killers don't need reason! He's a murderer! I hate him, I hate that damned monkey with all my heart!"

Her anger transformed into shock as Goku's face contorted violently. He had been hurt, that was obvious. Bulma's mind instantly replayed her sentence and she realized she had called Vegeta a monkey—a word Goku was intimately familiar with. Guilt swept her malice away. She released her breath with a painful gush and stared at her friend imploringly. "I… I didn't mean it, Goku," she murmured quickly, stepping forward to comfort him, but he flinched away. His eyes were hurt, but also shocked and resentful.

"Do you call me that too, Bulma?" he said hoarsely, his voice an odd mixture of emotions. "Was that what you and Zarbon were laughing about? Monkeys like me?"

"No! Don't be stupid, Goku." But again, those were the wrong words, and she almost slapped herself for her ignorance.

"Stupid," he choked out. "Stupid monkeys like me."

"I didn't mean it like that," Bulma said firmly. "No matter what, you're my friend."

For a moment, he looked pacified, but something stirred in him again, and he slowly asked, "Then why can't you keep me in the same room when you're with other people? Why do you always turn me away until later? Are you scared of what they'll say?"

Those words struck her deep, right to the marrow—and it was because they were all true. She had always pushed him aside, put him second-in-line to Zarbon and Frieza, ignored him, even talked about him maliciously now and again. It had nothing to do with her feelings for him—on the contrary, she loved him like a brother—but she had done it for show, done it for them.

All to avoid scorn and abuse.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I never meant to hurt you." The tears came to her, thick and fast, and even though Goku was still angered, his eyes softened slightly.

"I'm sorry, too." Before anything further could be said, however, static crackled and a voice over the intercom announced, "Bulma, you're needed in the training center, bay seventeen. Bring the necessary equipment."

She growled in frustration and wiped the tears off her cheeks. "I've got to go. Are you going to wait here for me, or do you want to come?"

"I'll come." He glanced up and smiled at her once again, the same youthful grin that he always wore. She gave him a quick hug and grabbed her tools before they left.

* * *

The Saiyan prince angrily jabbed the air before him, ducking and weaving the onslaught of the computerized enemy. With one strike, Vegeta's opponent was rendered dysfunctional. He grunted as the hunk of metal collapsed to the ground, then wiped the sweat off his brow and retreated to the drinking fountain.

"Well, well, well, look who's back! Is that you, Vegeta?" The prince spun to find the silhouette of Zarbon in the training bay's doorway. "You're looking"—his eyes flitted from the bottom of Vegeta's greasy, blood-stained boots to the tips of his matted hair—"filthy."

"Get lost, Zarbon, unless you feel like getting that pretty face of yours dirty for a change."

The green alien clicked his tongue mockingly. "Such language, so unbecoming for a prince. What happened to the sweet child I once knew?" The only response he received was a low growl, which he gallantly ignored. "But, if you insist on losing, I'd be more than happy to put you in your place."

"So you will fight me, then?" Vegeta turned to face him fully, his muscles already craving the rush of energy.

"Of course, Vegeta. Whenever you're prepared. Just contact m—"

"Now," he barked. "Fight me now." His voice was powerful, demanding, like a king's should be. Zarbon jumped at the sound of Vegeta's booming voice, and for a moment, he was taken aback. Finally, he managed to say, "Wouldn't it be more prudent for you to train some more?"

"I've been training for the last eight years," he snarled. Somewhere inside of him, he could feel an unexplainable peace building—a resigned part of his soul that knew he would win, without question. Zarbon seemed to sense it too, somehow, and although his façade was calm, his hands shook as he tightened his gloves. "Have it your way, Prince of the Apes." With one final twist of his wrist, he was ready. "Come and get me," he challenged.

Vegeta launched forward with a guttural cry, moving with speed he had never possessed before. Zarbon barely had time to duck the first punch, but Vegeta was too quick. A knee crashed into Zarbon's face, shattering his nose and sending him wheeling into the back wall. With a muted tap, Vegeta landed firmly on the ground and waited for his opponent to rise.

It took Zarbon a moment to recover from the shock of being hit. He sat up quickly and narrowed his eyes at the prince waiting haughtily for him to rise. "It seems you've gotten marginally faster," the green alien smirked, spitting the blood from his mouth. "But enough fooling around. Let's get down to business."

And he phased out.

Vegeta's eyes searched frantically, but he saw the incoming blow too late. A fist landed squarely in his chest, and all at once Zarbon's hands became blurs as one strike after another hit their marks. Vegeta did all he could to dodge, but the strain was becoming too great, and he shoved away to catch his breath.

"Is this getting too hard for you?" Zarbon mocked. "We can call the whole thing off, then you won't have to face the shame of being beaten on your first day back from purging."

"I'm not finished," Vegeta snapped back. "I won't be finished until I make you pay for what you've done."

His opponent cruelly laughed. "Me? Why, Vegeta, I haven't done a thing."

It was in that moment Vegeta felt something inside of him surge forth, a power he'd never felt before. It felt like anger, the same anger that Vegeta had carried since the day he was born—all of it now seemed to well up in his chest and burn, giving him a new source of energy. Life didn't matter, and death was a trifle; vengeance was what it fed off of, and its fires were now raging.

Vegeta threw himself into another attack with another feral cry, and despite Zarbon's speed and grace, the green alien found himself falling, tripping, barely able to dodge even a third of the strikes headed his way. The raw power radiating from the young prince was simply awesome, and it alone was powerful enough to repel Zarbon's defensive maneuvers. Panicked, he tried to retreat, but somehow he was held there, fighting for his life. That was when Zarbon knew the truth.

Vegeta was the stronger man.

For a moment, he thought he was dreaming. This was impossible. He had gone out of his way to make Vegeta miserable, weak, worthless, yet despite all his efforts the wretched Saiyan prince had become a confident, powerful adversary.

Frenziedly, Zarbon poured all of his energy into protecting himself, but to no avail. Vegeta seemed to get stronger with each blow, his ki concentrated in his fists, chipping away at Zarbon's defenses.

Then, just when the last of Zarbon's energy was stretching to its limit, the sound of a scream halted Vegeta's crazed assault. His eyes turned and found Bulma, hand at her mouth, unbridled fear in her eyes—and in that moment, Zarbon used the last of his energy to knock Vegeta down.

"Let that be a lesson, Monkey," Zarbon added futilely as Bulma ran to his side.

"What happened? Why were you fighting?" Behind her, Goku rolled the unconscious Vegeta onto his back, checking for breathing. Bulma's eyes, however, were on Zarbon, searching for any serious injury.

With his chin jutting out childishly, he replied, "That savage back there attacked me without provocation. His behavior since he's returned has been consistently standoffish and confrontational. Lord Frieza must hear of this before he takes it too far!" He took a dramatic step forward and collapsed conspicuously to the floor.

Bulma reacted immediately, stooping down beside him to help him to his feet. "Are you hurt?"

"It's nothing much," he said, making a show of trying to stand on his own feet. "He merely caught me off-guard. I could've easily taken the Ape if I had—"

"Enough," Goku barked. Bulma and Zarbon started, then turned to find him lifting Vegeta into his arms. The Saiyan prince was bleeding badly, his hands misshapen masses of flesh and shattered bones. Goku's countenance bore a somber expression that Bulma rarely saw. "He's lying to you, Bulma. Vegeta wouldn't fight someone for nothing. Trust me."

Zarbon snorted. "Trust you? What reason would she have to trust—"

Bulma interrupted lowly, "Goku, I would believe you, I would." She hid her eyes from Zarbon's astonished stare and continued, "It's just that… Goku, not everyone is as good as you want them to be. Vegeta isn't as good as you want him to be."

"But—"

"Don't, Goku." Bulma struggled to her feet with Zarbon's weight safely on her shoulders. "Let's just take them to Garnet and forget this."

"Forget?" Zarbon cried as Goku grimly nodded. "Forget? That Ape tried to kill me!"

"I know, I'm not arguing with you," she said coolly, helping him steady himself. "I'm taking you to the doctor. Just leave Goku alone." Zarbon shot her a confused glance in reply, but managed to hold his tongue the entire way to Garnet's office, even as Goku followed close behind with Vegeta in tow.

Bulma was the one who opened the door and led the bloody procession inside. H'limke immediately leapt to his feet, staring first at the glowering and gory Zarbon, to the unusually silent Bulma and Goku, then finally to the unconscious Vegeta resting in the younger Saiyan's arms. "My God, what happened?"

"It's nothing Garnet," Goku said in a surprisingly calm voice.

"That's a lie," Zarbon snarled. "Vegeta attacked and almost killed me, Doctor."

"Is that right?"

"No," Goku asserted as Bulma whispered, "Yes."

H'limke looked from one to the other, his shrewd eyes weighing the two. He only hesitated a moment before instructing the three to follow him. "Both Zarbon and Vegeta need to stay in the regeneration tanks for a day or so," he announced briskly, leading the group towards the regen room. Zarbon hobbled in with Bulma's help, and Goku followed calmly with Vegeta in his arms and Garnet at his side.

Bulma stood to one side as H'limke helped Goku undress Vegeta and ease his body into one of the tanks. Zarbon managed to help himself, but not without numerous complaints of aches and pains. The doctor closed both of the men into the tanks and set the timers.

"Zarbon will be fine within a few hours. Vegeta, however, will take a day or so." Goku nodded grimly, as did Bulma. After a momentary pause, Garnet asked, "Do either of you know what really happened?"

"Zarbon said that Vegeta attacked him," Bulma offered. While she said this, the young Saiyan beside her turned his attention to his feet.

"Goku, do you think that's true?" the doctor asked softly. And, just as softly, Goku replied, "No." Then, with a stronger voice, he added, "Vegeta is in such bad shape, Mr. Garnet. I don't think he started it."

As if this satisfied him, the doctor said, "I'll send you word when Vegeta's ready. He may need some help back to the room. As for Zarbon, he should be fine."

Bulma watched this exchange with shock. "But Zarbon was attacked by that jerk!" she asserted. "Garnet, how can you think that he's guilty?"

"Did I say that?"

"You're implying it! Zarbon didn't do anything wrong, he told me so!"

Goku interrupted by saying, "Why do you believe him? Can't he make a mistake?"

"He doesn't have a reason to lie to me!" She stared alternately at Goku and Garnet, completely confident in her response. The two men exchanged glances.

"You can leave, Goku," H'limke said. "I'd like to speak to Bulma alone. I'll page you later when Vegeta's ready."

"Yes, sir." With one last pleading look at Bulma, the young Saiyan left. The doctor immediately turned his attention to the girl in front of him.

"Bulma, it's time you knew the truth."

* * *

Yes, more of the story, thank God. Have you voted yet for my next project? The poll is on my profile page... and right now there's a four-way tie out of five stories, haha. Please help me out by voting! I'll try to get the next chapter out as soon as possible.


	12. Tell

**Chapter Twelve**

**Tell**

"I already know the truth. He killed my parents." Bulma's voice echoed in the metal room, causing it to sound hollow.

"Yes, but he saved you. He risked his own life to save you."

"I don't care!" she snapped, clenching her fists in anger. "He never told me! He never told me that he killed everyone in West City! He never told me he killed my parents!"

Recovering gracefully from her outburst, H'limke retorted, "He just wanted to protect you from that, don't you see? He knows what it's like to lose everything. It's probable that he didn't want you to know so you wouldn't become like him."

"Like him?" she sneered. "I'm not a monster. I'm not a killer."

"Neither is he. He never chose to live like this."

She demanded, "Then why doesn't he leave?"

Despite himself, H'limke laughed. "You know what happens to the soldiers that desert. They get tortured and killed."

"A fitting fate, don't you think?"

Garnet fixed her with a hard gaze, and her malicious smirk faded into a scowl. "He would never allow that to happen. He is the prince of an almost extinct race; he is the only one who remembers Vegeta-sei. It is his duty to live on in the name of his people, even if he is alone."

Bulma merely snorted at this news.

"Vegeta doesn't live his life for himself," H'limke pressed. "If he did, he would've been dead a long time ago." They sat in a prolonged silence, her brow still furrowed in bullheaded defiance. The doctor waited to see if she would say anything, but she didn't even blink. He eventually let out a heavy sigh.

"He didn't used to be alone, even before you."

She was still silent, but her frown deepened.

"Until eight years ago, there were two others, both older than the prince. The three of them were incredibly close, as you can probably imagine. They were the last three of their kind. Well, besides the obvious excep—"

"Others survived?" she interrupted. "What happened eight years ago?"

"They were killed. Both of them, by Zarbon's hand."

"Z-Zarbon?" she questioned weakly, but the doctor didn't hear. Through the roar in her ears, she heard him continue. "The two Saiyans were named Nappa and Raditz. They were Vegeta's bodyguards since he was a child. They were on-board with Vegeta when Vegeta-sei was attacked, and—"

"Wait, who was attacked?" Bulma's eyes filled with confusion. "Vegeta's planet? Who did that?"

Despite himself, H'limke flashed small smile, as she had unwittingly used Vegeta's proper name. But it vanished as he said, "Lord Frieza, of course. He will pick a few specimens of a species and keep them on his ship while he kills off the rest of their race. This ensures that some of his soldiers have no where else to go and will thus remain with him."

"Oh," was all she could say.

"Nappa and Raditz were a good deal older than Vegeta, and they realized their powers were being exploited by Lord Frieza. Together, they began to plot a way to escape. Vegeta, at this time, was six, therefore he was still gullible and trusting. He was devoted to Raditz and Nappa, but he also befriended Zarbon while he was young."

"But Zarbon told me that—"

"Let me finish, then you can talk all you want." Bulma reluctantly closed her mouth. "Now, I don't quite understand what Zarbon's motivations were, but Vegeta admired Zarbon immensely and trusted him with his life. Raditz and Nappa were afraid that their young prince would tell Zarbon of their plans and, in turn, Zarbon would relate his findings to Frieza. When Vegeta turned nine, however, they believed he was old enough to keep their secret, so they told him."

* * *

"_These are the plans," Nappa said, laying a map and various notes on the floor. "We've been working on them for a couple of years now." Vegeta mutely gaped at the intricate blueprints and charts, including calculations about Frieza's power level, names of other soldiers that might join the revolt, even coordinates for uninhabited planets to live on._

"_We will need your help, of course," Raditz added. "That's why you must train every day and make sure to obey Frieza in the meantime. When you're old enough, probably sixteen or so, we'll be able to do it."_

_The young prince turned his gaze to Raditz. "Do we need to fight back? Maybe we can just stay here." Both bodyguards exchanged meaningful glances, and Nappa spoke first._

"_Prince Vegeta, Frieza has been using us for years."_

"_That's just a rumor. Zarbon told me so."_

_Nappa faltered, then looked at Raditz. "Should we tell him, then?"_

"_I…I guess." With a softer light in his eyes Raditz turned back to the prince. "Prince Vegeta…Frieza is the one who almost killed off our entire race."_

"_What? What do you mean?" Wildly, he searched his friend's face. "Our planet was hit by a meteor shower!"_

"_You know that with a Saiyan's strength, a meteor shower wouldn't be able to wipe us all out. Frieza made that up…he blew up Vegeta-sei and killed every Saiyan besides us. He thought our race was getting too strong."_

_The horror etched on Vegeta's face was evident. He stuttered, "That's…that's a lie! Lord Frieza wouldn't do that!"_

"_You can think what you want," Nappa said softly. "That's what really happened."_

_The prince looked between them, unsure what to believe. When Raditz placed a hand on his shoulder, he flinched and tried vainly to pull away. "You're going to have to learn the truth, Prince Vegeta. Frieza does not care for you, or me, or Nappa, or anyone. He just wants power and whoever gets in his way will be killed. That's why we need your help."_

_The look in the young boy's eyes began to strengthen with the idea, but before he could reply, the door opened and Zarbon marched into the room. Vegeta's head whipped around while his bodyguards leapt to their feet defensively._

"_What are you doing here, slime ball?"_

_Zarbon gallantly ignored them, instead turning his attention to Vegeta. "Well, my dear little prince, what might you have there?"_

_Nappa clenched his fists, ready to defend the prince if Zarbon made a move, while Raditz repeated, "What are you doing here?"_

"_I was sent to do a surprise inspection," he replied, smiling widely. "I didn't realize that I was the one that was going to be surprised."_

_A low growl emitted from Raditz's throat, but he was cut short when Vegeta fell to his knees and tugged on the leg of Zarbon's pants. "Please don't tell on us!" he begged his friend. "You can't!"_

"_Oh? Why shouldn't I, Prince?"_

"_Lord Frieza will kill all of us! You have to understand, Zarbon! Please!" Tears were leaking down his cheeks as he pleaded with him. "He killed my dad, my people! I don't want to be here anymore!"_

_Smiling benevolently, he slowly replied, "I do understand." The green alien bent down to Vegeta's level, glaring at the older Saiyans who gasped in surprise and tried to convince their prince not to listen to him. Vegeta didn't hear them, though; he just heard Zarbon's reassurance: "I promise that I won't tell."_

* * *

"Three days later, Frieza had Nappa and Raditz killed because of what he called 'an anonymous tip.'" H'limke tapped his fingers on his desk, watching Bulma's expression change from disgust to disbelief.

"It doesn't make sense! Why would only Vegeta get to live?"

"Vegeta was left alive as punishment for being disobedient."

"But that's so… cruel! Lord Frieza would never do that!"

He began to shuffle through the papers on his desk while he replied, "You'd be surprised how common that tactic is on this ship. To be quite honest, I don't know why Lord Frieza hasn't tried to kill Goku yet."

Bulma's jaw dropped in surprise. "H-how do you know this?" she eventually stuttered.

"The day Raditz and Nappa were killed, Vegeta came into my office sobbing. He told me the entire thing."

"Well… well so what? That doesn't change the fact he killed my parents!"

H'limke rested his chin in his hand and peered at her over his fingertips. "I'm very aware of that. I'm also aware of this: Vegeta was ordered to kill those people in West City by his commanding officer, who happened to be Zarbon at the time." Bulma's began to protest, but he continued, "If a soldier fails to follow orders, he can face severe punishment, even death. What's so remarkable is that Vegeta did not follow his orders. You're living proof of that." As she tried to stutter a response, H'limke checked his watch. "My shift is up. You'd better get back to your room and get some sleep. I've got to get some myself."

"You know he stole my necklace," she added pointlessly as he stood. "He's a monster."

"What necklace?"

She described the silver chain in detail, although she left out the fact that her father's theorem was inscribed on it. When she finished with her depiction, Garnet merely shook his head with a grin.

"That? You gave that to him."

"No I didn't. Why would I?"

He chuckled at her denial. "I was there, Bulma. You gave it to Goku and told him to give it to Vegeta, but not to say who it was from. Unfortunately, Goku's memory was never that good. He must have forgotten as well."

"I-I… you mean to say that I…." She was so shocked and frustrated, she couldn't get any more words out, but her protest was obvious.

"Bulma," H'limke smiled knowingly, "no matter how hard it may be for you to listen to this, you trusted him." He clicked his briefcase shut and opened the door for her. "Now go on. I've got to get to my room."

For a moment, she just stared at him blankly. Then, as if shocked, she leapt out of the chair and stomped out the door. Garnet watched her storm off, chuckling to himself as he turned out the office lights.

He strolled down the hallway thoughtfully, passing by soldiers without taking in their faces or greetings. Because of this, it took him a moment to hear his name being called.

"Mr. Garnet! Mr. Garnet, wait up!"

He turned to find Goku scrambling to catch up with him. "Anything troubling you?"

"Did Bulma listen? Is she better?" H'limke laughed and patted the young Saiyan on the shoulder.

"I have a feeling she'll come around, Goku."

* * *

She punched in her combination as fast and hard as she could, then burst into her room, ready to toss anything and everything against a wall.

But she didn't. She just collapsed onto her bed and cried.

What could she believe anymore? She trusted Zarbon. He had only ever treated her with kindness. How could he have caused the death of so many people, of Vegeta's friends, of her own parents? Yet she trusted Garnet—he had known her from childhood, had treated her when she was sick, had raised her almost as much as Zarbon. He had never lied to her about anything.

Her sobs racked her body, and she began retching with emotion. She made her way to the bathroom and vomited in the sink, her tears helping it wash down the drain. Afterwards, Bulma felt a little better, a little more under control. She washed her face with cold water and cleaned the sink a bit before she changed into pajamas and climbed into bed. She felt so worn out, but after a bit of sleep, she might know where her loyalties lay.

* * *

"Zarbon," Frieza greeted gleefully. "I've got some rather delightful news for you."

The green alien bowed deeply. "Yes, Lord?"

Frieza seated himself on his throne and leaned back comfortably. "It seems that the inhabitants are a lot stronger than we thought. Every single foot soldier I have sent has been slaughtered."

Zarbon's eyes snapped up in surprise. "What? But the calculations—"

"Were obviously wrong. Not only are there three times as many more Namekians than we originally thought, but their powers are extraordinary. They can regenerate limbs, for example." The commander uttered another exclamation, but Frieza dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "That's not the good news, though."

"What are we to do?" Zarbon interrupted, nearly in a panic. "We can't give up a planet as large as that one, but from what—"

"We won't give up the planet," the alien hoarsely laughed. "I will be going there myself."

"Lord Frieza!"

"No, it's perfectly fine. You, of course, will accompany me, as well as the rest of the class one soldiers. I'm even calling the Ginyu Force for assistance."

At this news, Zarbon showed the most surprise. "Are the Namekians really that strong?"

Frieza chuckled. "Oh, it's merely a precaution. Their numbers are quite possibly the worst aspect of their existence. The reason I'm bringing my best soldiers is entirely different."

"Why, then, my Lord?"

Glancing up from his goblet, the small alien hissed to the guards at the door, "Wait outside for a moment—this is confidential." They meekly bowed and backed out the doors. When Frieza was sure they were out of hearing range, his eyes brightened and he grinned malevolently. "There is a legend on Namek-sei," he began. "This legend says there are seven orbs spread throughout the planet, hidden. Whoever collects them and brings them together, has the power to have three of their deepest desires granted."

Zarbon snorted, then apologetically looked up and asked, "Surely you don't believe such a tale."

Lord Frieza's grin widened, and he pointed a finger to the side. "You must see what I have," he whispered with a wheeze. While he said this, a large orange orb, about a foot in diameter, floated towards the commander, who held out his hands to catch it. It sparkled a brilliant orange in the light, and five red stars seemed to wink at him.

"Is this…?" he started to ask, before he trailed off in wonder.

"That is the five-star dragonball. There are six left on Namek-sei, and we will find them."

* * *

Ah, finally the truth comes out. Their relationship is now on the rebound. Yaaaay!


	13. Comfort

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Comfort**

The troops were to be sent out immediately. Every able-bodied soldier available was to pack his bags and prepare for boarding. Zarbon issued the command as soon as he walked out of Frieza's chambers, and he estimated that they'd leave at 0600 hours the day after next, leaving him little time to get packed and prepare the ships.

His boots clicked at a rapid pace as he marched down the hallway, underlings whirling aside to avoid his path. Bulma, Lord Frieza had told him, was to remain behind until she finished the gravitational chamber, then she could bring the technology out with her. In fact, she was considered a rather vital part of the plan, as many of the soldiers under Lord Frieza's command were much weaker than the average Namekian soldier, and it was imperative that they be brought up to par.

Zarbon knocked smartly on the door. "Bulma, it's me. May I come in?" At first, he didn't hear an answer, and he knocked again. "Bulma?" This time, he heard some muffled sound emitting from the room, and he punched the combination in before bursting into the room.

It was dark when he entered. He could see Bulma's shadow outlined on the bed and he slowly made his way forward. "Are you okay, darling?" he asked her gently as he patted her back. She immediately moved to cry on his shoulder, and Zarbon was taken aback. "What happened?"

"Vegeta," she sobbed, but she could get no further in her sentence. Mentally, the green alien gritted his teeth. The stupid ape was at it again.

"What did he do to you?" Zarbon pressed, alarmed. "Did he say anything to hurt you?" Bulma was crying too hard to voice her answer, but she vigorously shook her head no, and Zarbon let out a sigh of relief. "Hush, then. There's no need to worry." Bulma found her way into his arms for a hug, and he held her just like he did when she was a child. "You're confused," he said silkily, patting her on the shoulder. "After all, seeing him again was very trying for you. You'd best forget about him."

"Did you kill his friends?" she sobbed so abruptly, he didn't know if he had heard it at all.

"I'm sorry?"

She was still sniffling, but Bulma had a better handle of her emotions now. She pushed out of his hug and made an act of wiping away her tears as she said, "Did you… were you the one that told Lord Frieza that Vegeta's friends were planning to escape?"

Zarbon stiffened for a moment, and Bulma even stopped sniffing, waiting for him to answer. His palm suddenly crashed across her face, catching her off-guard. Even though he drew back his strength so as not to kill her, she collapsed to the floor with a shriek. "Don't you dare mention his name in the same breath as Lord Frieza's!" Zarbon shouted at her. "He is a traitorous ape who deserves worse than death! He killed your parents, Bulma, and don't you ever forget that."

She cried to him, "I haven't," again and again, and his anger subsided. However, just as he was about to leave her to herself, she pushed herself up with her hands, and her blue eyes were as hard as their sapphire color would imply. "I also haven't forgotten one other thing, Zarbon: he let me live."

She lashed her foot out in the dark and Zarbon, amazingly, was forced to stumble backwards until he felt something cool latch around his ankle, stopping him in his tracks. "What is this?" he began worriedly, struggling to move. Bulma leapt to her feet and began pounding away at the control panel inside the room. "It's a ki dampener," she muttered over the soft beeping of the keys. "You're going to stay here for a bit. I'm setting the computer to release you right before the ship takes off.

"You knew about the command?"

"Frieza sent another foot soldier to tell me," she grinned as she finished the computer entry. "And don't bother trying to free yourself, you'll never be able to hack into this computer."

Sputtering, Zarbon growled, "Where are you going?"

"Me?" she replied, all innocence. "I've got some errands to run."

* * *

"Goku, report to the doctor's office," a voice crackled over the intercom. The young Saiyan, who was asleep only moments before, was now hurriedly pulling on his boots and out the door before the announcement even finished. Although it was surprisingly early, Goku understood that Vegeta was healed by now.

He raced down the hallway, dodging the other soldiers with all the grace of a fighter, and he arrived at the office door within a moment's time. H'limke was waiting when Goku opened the door.

"Is he ready? Can I see him?"

"Almost, Goku," the doctor said with an affectionate smile, but it soon disappeared as H'limke sighed. "I called you here a bit early to say that I will be going with the troops to Namek, as will Vegeta."

"What about me?"

"You're staying behind, Goku. Lord Frieza only asked for his able-bodied soldiers, and you have never even been fully trained." Before Goku could beg, H'limke checked his watch. "Vegeta should be ready by now. He healed at a tremendous rate. Come along, Goku."

The doctor led the younger Saiyan down the hall, past the blindingly white doorways illuminated by cheap lighting. "Did you know," H'limke said over his shoulder, "a Saiyan naturally gets stronger every time he is hurt? His body heals itself rapidly, but his cells also strengthen when they're done." Goku frowned, as if trying to grasp exactly what H'limke meant.

"You mean that if someone hurts me, I get stronger after I heal?"

"Exactly. And the more you get hurt, the more strength you'll gain."

Goku grinned, then, and began dwelling on his body's natural strength than his inability to fight, which was Garnet's intention. He knew that if Goku was determined to learn how to fight, sneaking onto the ship to Namek would be no problem for him, and that was the last thing the doctor wanted.

"Vegeta should be ready about now," the doctor said as he pushed open a pair of doors at the end of the hallway. Sure enough, the healing chamber was buzzing as the greenish fluid drained from the inside. "You'll have to help him back to the room and make sure he gets plenty of sleep."

"Sure thing." Goku helped H'limke open the door and pull Vegeta to his feet. They dressed him as quickly as they could, and Goku was soon helping the prince to his room. He allowed Vegeta to simply collapse on the couch as soon as they entered, and left him to sleep while he went to pack for him.

* * *

It was three in the morning. The ships for Namek would be leaving in a few hours, but Bulma was in her personal laboratory, the doors barricaded so she would be uninterrupted. There was just one last glitch she couldn't figure out, and she tapped the hammer impatiently in her palm as she stared at the batch of wires and screws before her.

Nervously, she set the controls to two-times gravity and bit her lip. This was the best she could do—if it didn't work, there was nothing left to try. With one deep breath, she pushed the button.

Immediately, she felt as if her body had been filled with lead. Her knees buckled; her head drooped. Bulma even had trouble keeping her eyelids open. But, despite the strength it took, she burst into a wide grin. "It works! Yes!" It took all her strength to reset the machine, but she couldn't have been happier. She was humming when she shrank the space pod into its dino cap.

"Bulma?" a voice called out from behind her.

"Goku, I'm over here!" His familiar face peeked at her from behind a pile of boxes. "What's up?"

"I was heading back to my room, but I saw your light was on, so I thought I'd say hello."

She smiled at him, but her eyes flickered when she remembered what she had set out to do. "Where's Vegeta right now?"

"Vegeta? Uh, he's on the ship, I think."

"Why would he be there?" She pocketed the dino cap and began to walk through her lab, Goku trailing behind.

"He's one of the soldiers."

Bulma immediately stiffened. "He's on his way to Namek?"

"In three hours, yeah. I just said good-bye to him."

"But he can't go!" she exclaimed, and when she whirled to face Goku, he was surprised to see tears on her face. "I have to tell him I'm sorry! I have to tell him the truth!"

"Um, I'm confused."

She ignored him as she rushed to the lab door. "Come on, we need to hurry!" she barked as she threw on her servant cloak. Bulma also tossed one to Goku, who warily donned it himself. "We need to get on that ship before it leaves."


End file.
